Like I Was Saying...
Usually, I’ll skate the river early in the morning.
But this morning, I woke up to the distant sound of lawnmowers. It’s been raining quite a bit in my neck of the woods, and my lawn needed a cut.
So I figured I’d better cut my grass before it got too hot. Plus, it looked cloudy, and I just thought I’d better get it done before it rained.
I’m not a yard guy. Dad was somewhat of a yard guy. He planned his yard, growing all sorts of bushes and whatnot. Dad would spend part of his weekend and some nights watering his lawn. As best he could, he tried to make a garden oasis out of a dirt-ridden backyard.
Mom tells me that a while ago, she figured out that dad had positioned a light in the backyard so he could make it easier to see the faucet at night.
“The yard” was one among many things my parents shared.
It must skip a generation because I hate doing yard work. Yard work for me is up there with paying taxes and grocery shopping.
Lucy is the one that likes the idea of having a nice yard. She’s the one with the plan but doesn’t have the time to work at it. She is a teacher.
Lucy likes bushes and fire pits. But, like my dad, she wants to create a backyard oasis. She wants a yard where you can kick back, relax, and enjoy the evening.
Like with many things in my life, I like the idea of a nice yard but don’t like what it takes to have a nice yard.
I’m more of a minimalist when it comes to the yard. Sure, I like a nice cut lawn, but the less I need to weave through, the better.
I want less stuff out there.
I was okay with how the yard looked when we first moved here.
There was a nice deck with a tree in the center, but lightning ruined that. And beyond the deck was this nice vast lawn, surrounded any an excellent fence. Plus, we had this nice-looking storage shed in the back. That’s it.
In my head, we get a nice deck set and grill, calling it a day. Easy peasy.
Nope.
A neighbor just got up and left some of their stuff after we moved in, not one full week. They left this horrible backyard table and chair set, plus a propane grill.
I lost the fight, and we carried across the street and put it in our yard.
For me, it was like drawing a crude finger on a Picasso.
I didn’t know it then, but that table was the beginning of losing the Great Medina Lawn war. The war ends when either I die or move out of this house.
Part of me wishes I was a lawn guy. I do feel the urge creeping in now and then. You know, it would be cool if we did this to the yard --
Then I’m reminded that I’m not a yard man. And to keep it simple, because mowing sucks.