My Backyard: My Shame

When I was growing up, one of my most hated responsibilities was watering the lawn (no fancy sprinkler systems in our family). I'd position the sprinkler according to my dad's specific instructions, set a timer, and then get busy doing other things and forget all about Keeping the Lawn Green. This was a capital offense for which I was frequently in trouble but from which I was never fired because I needed to learn to "do it right." This, combined with my deep hatred of the trouble caused by our garden, inspired me to tell my parents more than once that when I grew up, I'd never have a yard. I swore I'd pave the entire plot instead and paint it green if we missed any plant life.

Fast forward two decades and here I am, fighting against the wilds of our fraction-of-an-acre lot. If you haven't been invited to our house (and, now that I think about it, essentially no one has), this is why. Think I'm overstating things? Let me illustrate:

Stage 1:



Yes, this is our garden. On the bright side, it's 2/3 done. And also our tomatoes and squash are thriving. On the other side--the dark side, if you will--that large patch full of weeds? I already weeded that. And then I did nothing about it, so now I have to do it again. It would be better if we didn't have a chain link fence in the back there so that our neighbors--whose backyard is well kept--wouldn't have to suffer from our sloth.

Stage 2:



The once-upon-a-time sandbox. There is, in fact, sand in this corner, but it's underneath the weeds. As a sidenote, I wonder how many toys are buried in there. Hmm.

Stage 3:



The length of the back fence has been tastefully landscaped using a mixture of day lilies (which should be separated every five years but likely never have been in their 12 years of existence), aspen suckers, and extremely tenacious weeds. Mmm. So pretty.

Stage 4:



The asparagus bed. The asparagus is actually thriving, in spite of what I've read about their not liking competition. The silver lining here is that there are fewer weeds in this picture than I pulled out to plant the asparagus, so we're not yet at a net loss of effort.

Stage 5: [This is the worst part.]



The Grove. Last fall, Paul and my dad spent an entire Saturday digging a deep trench along our back fence and placing a barrier to keep the aspen suckers out of yard. You can see how happy this simple action made whatever stinking plant that is that has claimed this corner of our back yard as its own.

Darn back yard. Darn lot of never-ending work. I'm thinking about calling in the cement truck.

[Although (disclaimer): Paul, being amazing and in a non-delicate, non-fainting-prone state, worked like a dog on Saturday, resulting in this:



A fully weeded asparagus bed! And the piece de resistance:



Several more day lilies uprooted!



Achieved only through excessive sweating and sun exposure. Good work, Husband. And, hmm. Now that I think about it, maybe Paul's need for vitamin D requires me to put off calling the cement truck. I'll think about it.