You’d think being married to a landscaper I would have the best yard in town. Of course you’d also think the cobbler’s children would have the best shoes…?
Back when my children used to spend their days running around the lawn in their little bare feet I wouldn’t let chemicals anywhere near it, and weeds be damned. But now that I have a brood of teenagers who are too cool and mature to step outside without shoes I’m willing to do whatever it takes to control the weeds, without qualm or conscience.
Now the landscaper of the family is full of good intentions but for some reason the revenue generating yards seem to take precedence. So last year I sprayed the dandelions and also spent a couple of days pulling clover up which was surprisingly satisfying. Give it a little tug and wiggle it the right way and an entire network of above ground roots can be threaded out through the grass. Is it okay that I find it quite thrilling when one pulls out without breaking, or is it an indication that I really need more excitement in my life?
This year the weeds are all back in lush and glorious profusion but I’ve been holding back because apparently hubby’s got a guy coming any day now, and our broadleaf bed will be transformed into a fabulous, bowling green lawn.
Well, my saintlike patience has just expired. Unfortunately, all I could track down in the garage was some kind of weed killing bar which is quite the most ridiculous concept I could imagine. I spent half an hour dragging this thing behind me on a little string and rather than crushing the weeds menacingly it bobbed merrily along the top and I’m pretty sure it didn’t even so much as offend a weed.
It’s been a good hour now and nothing is wilting, but I’m told I need a little more patience.
So, will the weeds all be dead tomorrow? I doubt it, but in this instance I would be happy to cope with the disappointment of being wrong.