This weekend was awesome, especially compared to last weekend when, in my effort to philanthropize with One Brick, who’s blog I’d been working on as of late, I dragged Phil out to Shamrockfest on a miserably cold and wet Saturday downtown to serve overpriced beer to equally miserably cold and wet event patrons. But with the exception of a somewhat overcast Sunday morning (or at least as much of the morning I actually see on the weekend if I’m not required to be anywhere), it was sunny, and warm, and well, after four months of blizzard-like snow ruining one weekend after another, no doubt instilled the motivation in just about anyone to head outdoors.
Our plan was to finally get around to taking care of some things around the house. One of them – to expand the great gardening experiment.
Phil was in part lured by the size of the yard when he bought this house two years ago, and apparently he wasn’t the only one. One afternoon last summer, when we were working in the yard, a real live red-headed Scotsman… or maybe, Irishman… whatever, approached and introduced himself. He and his wife had their eye on that house, too, though his wife ultimately worried that the neighbors dogs would just be too noisy to tolerate. He almost showed a satisfying smile when we assured him that the dogs were really no trouble, as though he could go home and tell his wife “I told you so.” Actually, our only initial nuisance was the neighbor’s daughter who couldn’t have been more than 12. Her welcome-to-the-neighborhood gesture was a note scrawled in crayon and dropped in our mail slot that said something like seek salvation or burn in hell. I later understood the creepy religious devotion she’d developed when I met her parents – and by met, I mean, she’d ride her bike on the sidewalk and they’d constantly be screaming at her from the house for one reason or another. Thankfully, they moved.
The owners before us were an old couple who eventually moved to Leisure World, one of those “active retirement” communities, and the wife – who clearly made all the design decisions (the house was awash in pastel and floral designs when we moved in) – had planted plenty of flowers and plants in the yard. They were easy maintenance, and it was cool not only to live in a house with a yard (which I hadn’t done since I first moved out here to share a house in Virginia), but we lived in a house with a yard that living grass AND plants and flowers and trees!