… she's not coming down 'til it all makes sense again…

fer the love of the yard


It’s dark and stormy, with yellowish skies this morning. Boo is not happy. She won’t even sit up on the couch, that’s much too close to the scary sky.. she prefers to curl up on the floor at my feet, with her ears back, glancing around suspiciously… Actually, she’ more like ON my feet. My back aches. But it’s the good kinda ache, the all-day yesterday yardwork ache…

I wish I could remember this every spring, but something happens during the long, cold, gray, soul-sucking winter… it’s like I get a BRAIN SCRUB, and I FORGET… I forget that I love the yard. and when I’m out there digging and loading and lugging and pulling and washing and arranging and sweating and just in general, “prettifying” the place, that’s when I’m happy, and may be the only place I lose all track of time… It was easy to lose track of time as a kid, but as an adult… you really have to find something you love… 

I forget that when you pick up all the assorted plastic and newspaper and wiffle balls that blow around during that nasty winter, it’s actually quite a lovely place to be… During early spring, I stare out the kitchen window, and just GLARE at that yard, the leafless trees, the muddy patchy bald ground, the garbage, broken sleds, boxes and blowing wrap from friggin’ CHRISTMAS littering the porch… I scrub dishes and I glare… and I know it’s warm enough that I can get out there and clean up that yard, but I resist… I’ll bet I spend 3 full warm-enough weeks glaring out that kitchen window every day, and I could be out there taking care of it. I love rainy days during this silly period, because it means I don’t HAVE to go out there…

Because it looks impossible. It looks like soooo much work…

I forget that I can move mountains.  Just me and a shovel and a rake and an old piece of a tarp. MOUNTAINS!! Of dirt, and leaves and fallen branches and manure and straw and sawdust and wood ash… I can actually take those unsightly things and make amazing fires, and beautiful black compost for the garden… I KEEP FORGETTING!!! How good it feels to clear and burn! And dig and plant! How nice the porches look when I pick up the 12 leaves in the corner, wipe the glass table tops, and straighten the chair cushions… From the kitchen window, all these things just look…impossible…too much…

Cassie came out yesterday and raked and filled pots with rich black soil, planted purple petunias… She gets it, at 25, she gets the yard and the sun and the trees… well, all three of my girls get it.. I wish I’d understood at that age… ahhh regrets… regrets are for chumps… I don’t believe in regrets. Or at least regrets without action. I marked both my calendars for April 5, 2015: GET OUT IN THE YARD. DON’T GLARE AT MESS FROM KITCHEN WINDOW UNTIL MAY, YOU CAN FIX THIS NOW, AND ENJOY IT FOR AN EXTRA MONTH!

Sigh… I’m hoping my second half-century on this planet is… just much smarter and calmer and…more… what?  serene? appreciative? common sensical? ohmygosh, what if I live another 50 years?? How friggin’ amazing would that be!!





2 thoughts on “fer the love of the yard

  1. You should compile this stuff into a book. Amazing!!!

  2. You almost make me want to go outside too! I have looked at plants and hope to actually purchase some next week. It’s time for Spring!

And what about Naomi?

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