When we moved in last year, our house was a mess. A diamond in the rough, as we saw it, but five+ years of neglect had left what was once a beautiful home and yard looking very… worn. Broken windows, holes in walls, mold on windows, lawn completely overtaken by weed, you name it.
We had it painted, and fixed up the basement and I spent most of last summer scouring grime from corners. Now our home is just that: a home. Our third house, but first home together. Our whole family. We fit so very nicely here.
This year is The Year of the Yard (as Steve dubbed it). This morning he installed a railing along the outside cellar steps, to prevent little ones from falling down, and we’re going to have a backhoe scrap away out front “lawn” (aka: weeds) and then have a load of topsoil brought in and seed it from there. The lawn is so far-gone, even the landscapers agreed there was nothing left to do but start from scratch. Our side yard is wooded, and for the past week, we’ve been having the dead and fallen trees removed.
One particular corner of the yard is overwhelmingly submerged in a very aggressive ground cover (my Dad calls them “You’ll-Be-Sorry’s” because you’ll be sorry you ever planted them). Anyway, I’ve been digging that up at a slow but steady rate. When I feel overwhelmed by the size of that job, I do other little jobs. Weeding the front garden beds and mixing in new soil to ready them for planting. Edging the hostas we planted last summer with rocks and filling in the soil to make a proper little garden. And today I transplanted a fall seedum into a sunnier location and surrounded it with pansies.
(not my picture, I found it here)
For the first time in my life, gardening is making me happy, not overwhelmed. There is so much to do here, a lifetime of work really. And come July, when it’s time to weed and the soil is dry, all my gardening gusto may turn to dust, but for now, me, my gloves and my shovel have been having a great time.
Of course, having my faithful friend watching nearby doesn’t hurt, either.