Yardwork

Each year it seems that I battle my front lawn to a truce. Last year it gave up the ghost. My neighbor's lawns were coming in fine, mine was a wasteland of weeds and thatch. All I needed was to roll in a tire, a bathtub, and a few broken beer bottles and I could have applied for a federal superfund grant.

I opted for the retry. I got out my trusty leaf rake, and put in several hours of ab-strengthening hand blistering labor, followed by a dusting of seed. The results look favorable, especially after all of that glorious free water we had falling from the sky.

I took about eight trash barrels of weeds down to the compost pile at the end of our street


(Left side: What nature gave me this year. Right side: After the raking. Foreground: Old broken paving slates.)







I've taken a few days off from work this week, and have continued with some more yardwork. I replaced our splintered front walkway with new paving stones, found and repaired the French drain that keeps our back steps dry, and replanted the garden over Jimmy Hoffa. Wrong farm, fellas. (See all of that new grass left of my new walkway? I'll get to mow it soon! Oh, BOY!)