Growing the Freakin' Garden

Candide has been over for a week and it's time to face the inevitable: yard work. It's the bane of my existence. Never mistake me for a green thumb. When I tell people that I don't garden, most say, "Oh, I don't have a green thumb, I just play in the dirt." What I do is not playing. It's more like the torture imposed on the scarecrow by the flying monkeys in The Wizard of Oz.

For three months, I was happily ensconced in Westphalia and so had the excuse of being much too busy to weed, mow, rake, or edge the lawn (not really sure what that is but I know I have to do it). Now, I sit home all day knowing that I have to pick up a rake. I've tried to stall by cleaning out the attic and donating clothes but I just donated clothes 3 months ago so there aren't many left.

And what has Brian been doing these past 3 months? Well, he hates yard work just as much as I do and his excuses include, "I had to watch the kids and besides, I work all day every day making the money we live on."

Which, when you think about it, is a really good excuse.

Here's the thing I hate about weeds; they just keep growing. Ignored for most of the summer, the weeds don't slink away. No, they demand to be recognized--growing fat off the loneliness of the other plants. If you ignore a person long enough, he usually leaves; with the weeds--not so much.

I swear the weeds are taunting me as I plod out to the garage to find the rakes and shovels. It might help if I got a real shovel to attack them with. The one I'm using is green and plastic and it came with a pail that I bought for my daughter when she was 2. Since I hate yard work, I find it difficult to spend money on tools.

Armed with my woefully inadequate tools I approach the yard and the inevitable thought pops into my head, 'why did we buy a house with such a big lawn?'

I know why we did it of course; I fell in love with the house. Not only do we have a bathroom on every floor, we have a finished basement. It's not beautiful but it's finished. Plus, and it makes me giddy to think about, I have a huge bedroom. It's perfect for yoga and when the light streams in--pure bliss!

So of course when we looked at the house and my husband said, "Wow, what a big yard." I jumped in with "I'll mow!" I was dizzy with the possibilities of my bedroom and the luxuries of a bathroom on every floor. Naturally, I couldn't see the lawn correctly.

But now, I'm stuck with a large lawn, lots of weeds, deficient tools and no excuses. I feel like David going after Goliath. Unfortunately, I think this time, Goliath might win.