You’re Welcome

See...a little bitching goes a long way. 

Ms. Nature apparently took heed of my cool weather complaints on Friday and…voila...hello 70 degrees.

You’re welcome….

It’s mid Sunday morning as I’m writing this with a belly full of Z’s famous French Toast. The promise of another warm day lies ahead and they’re saying 80’s for tomorrow, or today, as you read this. 

So, the buds can once again get on with the business of blooming and the sun birds with the business of tanning their melanomas.

Again…you’re welcome.

Of course, even though I’m not one to complain…for more than 7 to 10 hours every day…I have to say that the nice weather does put a lot of pressure on a person to get outside and get things done. 

So there is a down side.

The upside is that the spell of premature warmth we had in mid-March did get the ball rolling early on some of those chores, so there is somewhat less to do now…at least for Z.  I don’t usually have much to do under any conditions, so my situation hasn’t changed much.

The garage has already been emptied of patio furniture and swept out.

The stack of this season’s left over firewood has been neatly stored off to the side to await next fall’s immolation along with its next season’s brethren in back of the garage.

The afore mentioned patio furniture is already in place on the deck, which itself awaits a power washing once the spring pollen has dissipated. And of course there are gardens to till and mulch, not to mention a slew of flowers and vegetables still to be purchased and planted.

Did I mention washing the cars...?

No wonder Z’s forgone sleep for the past couple of weeks.

Of course I exaggerate for entertainment purposes when I say Z does all the work.  There’s no way she could get the big patio table up there without my support and encouragement, which I know she appreciates.

She doesn’t say much to indicate her gratitude, but we’ve been together long enough that it goes without saying. Plus most of the four letter words she does mutter are on the softer side.

So you tell me….

My big thing is the lawn.

Yeah…I know. I’m one of those “lawn guys”.

Who would have thunk it.

But I kind of fell into it by accident, well, almost…about 11 years ago.

I mean literally almost fell into it….like in the 10 foot deep hole they had to dig in my not yet, but soon to be front lawn after it was discovered that the current owner at the time had not one, but two leaky oil tanks buried down there…along with various unknown associates. 

Luckily I had some soil testing done before we signed anything, so the remediation and clean up was of no cost to me, other than I was now buying a house with a front dust bowl instead of a lawn…along with various unknown associates.

The environmental remediation contractor did re-grade and seed, but the next weekend, the sellers decided to hold a tag sale out there, after it rained, and pretty much tore everything back up and left about a hundred footprints everywhere you looked.

Do you think they were bitter?

Anyway, once we got settled in I had no choice but to go out there and hoe like a farmer and smooth everything out. Of course being me, I missed a few spots so there are still several foot remnants buried under the green, here and there.  Something for the archeologists to ponder in the future I suppose…or not.

I bought a mountain of grass seed that fall and religiously watered twice a day….

I mean really religiously, down on my knees next to the priest and rabbi I hired to help hold the hose.

I wasn’t taking any chances.

And lo and behold, on the 7^th day, there begat little green spouts in the previously barren soil…not to mention the rabbi’s beard, and the priest’s hairy toes.

Okay, they were my hairy toes, not the priest’s.  The priest had left earlier in the week to set up for Bingo.

This left me alone with the Rabbi, which I didn’t mind since his stories were more entertaining than the priests.

But I digress…

The bottom line is, a beautiful weed free lawn miraculously appeared that September and early October, which I, again, religiously keep that way through a sharp eye and immediate dandelion, crab grass and clover eradication.

I don’t really need the Rabbi any more, but like I said he tells a good story so I don’t have the heart to tell him.

Plus, as he always reminds me…what does it hurt?

Z is on to some indoor chores now; washing windows and curtains and other various and sundry tasks known only to those who do…certainly not to me.

And speaking of me, the lawn hollers with a dandelion alert, with a smattering of clover.

Okay…it’s really just the Rabbi. 

Such a nudnik, he is…but also a mensch, who grows a good lawn.