My wife and kids are in Chicago visiting her folks. I'm home, hoping to take advantage of the time to finish various projects: refinish the hardwoods, spray toxins on the carpenter ants, edge the lawn, trim the hedges, clean the kitchen, excavate my study enough that I can move back into it, etc... and maybe sneak in a couple of guilt-free, all-day bike rides. (And maybe I'll go see Kill Bill.)
I couldn't sleep last night because the house was too quiet and, without a spouse to curl up next to, I was too cold. I was too groggy for biking, but my kitchen is spotless. The yard looks good, too.
One could psychoanalyze my neighborhood based on its yard maintenance habits. See, we live in an area with a homeowners' association. In each newsletter, they'll include a gentle reminder such as this:
My northern neighbor, a Microsoft Widow, is the other extreme. She mows something closer to once a quarter and her yard looks pretty wild. I finally gave any up hope of her weeding the rainforest on her side of the area separating our houses: I just mowed the thing over.
For the record, I don't enjoy working in the yard. The only thing I hate more than mowing the lawn is edging. Even with my aviation-grade ear protection, the edger is too noisy. Then there's the smell -- grass, grease and incompletely burned gasoline. I mow the lawn once every ten days during the peak season, and whenever it needs it in the winter. I used to mow the greenbelt behind the house until I saw that the homeowners' association sent a guy with a tractor out once a month. Now, I only mow it if my spouse complains that she's lost one of the kids.
Okay, I do find pleasure in pruning branches and pulling out stumps, all undoing the half-assed effort of the previous owners. For example, there was some kind of bush in front of the window that grew in every direction, but never filled out. For a few years I tried pruning it back into shape, but it just mocked me. Three years ago I cut it down to the ground, and it responded by doubling the shoots in each direction. Two years ago I cut everything down (again) and tried to pull out the stump. There were twenty roots, each 2" wide, and sprawled in different directions. After two days of battling Medusa, I pulled the stump out using a hydraulic truck jack and a 8 foot steel bar.
We planted tulips and a bunch of other cool sounding stuff. The bulb company has shared my spouse's name with its "marketing affiliates" and we're deluged with three catalogs a week. The shredded clippings make good compost.
I couldn't sleep last night because the house was too quiet and, without a spouse to curl up next to, I was too cold. I was too groggy for biking, but my kitchen is spotless. The yard looks good, too.
One could psychoanalyze my neighborhood based on its yard maintenance habits. See, we live in an area with a homeowners' association. In each newsletter, they'll include a gentle reminder such as this:
Yard Maintenance - Under Article 6.14 all homeowners are responsible “to maintain the landscaping on their lot in a healthy and attractive state”. This includes lawn repair and maintenance, flower beds weeded and tidy, shrubs trimmed and not growing out onto the sidewalk and trees that overhang onto the sidewalk must be trimmed well above the sidewalk (10 – 12 feet) so people can walk under them.This gets interpreted in different ways. My southern neighbor has an obsession about mowing her lawn. I think she mows it three times a week. She also mows the greenbelt behind her house, and has a lawn service come by every week or two. Her lawn looks good.
My northern neighbor, a Microsoft Widow, is the other extreme. She mows something closer to once a quarter and her yard looks pretty wild. I finally gave any up hope of her weeding the rainforest on her side of the area separating our houses: I just mowed the thing over.
For the record, I don't enjoy working in the yard. The only thing I hate more than mowing the lawn is edging. Even with my aviation-grade ear protection, the edger is too noisy. Then there's the smell -- grass, grease and incompletely burned gasoline. I mow the lawn once every ten days during the peak season, and whenever it needs it in the winter. I used to mow the greenbelt behind the house until I saw that the homeowners' association sent a guy with a tractor out once a month. Now, I only mow it if my spouse complains that she's lost one of the kids.
Okay, I do find pleasure in pruning branches and pulling out stumps, all undoing the half-assed effort of the previous owners. For example, there was some kind of bush in front of the window that grew in every direction, but never filled out. For a few years I tried pruning it back into shape, but it just mocked me. Three years ago I cut it down to the ground, and it responded by doubling the shoots in each direction. Two years ago I cut everything down (again) and tried to pull out the stump. There were twenty roots, each 2" wide, and sprawled in different directions. After two days of battling Medusa, I pulled the stump out using a hydraulic truck jack and a 8 foot steel bar.
We planted tulips and a bunch of other cool sounding stuff. The bulb company has shared my spouse's name with its "marketing affiliates" and we're deluged with three catalogs a week. The shredded clippings make good compost.
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