My backyard looks like a trailer park - the kind you'd see on Trailer Park Boys, full of weeds, little grass and yes, an old propane barbecue circa 1980. The only thing missing is the old washer and dryer left out to rust in the sunlight. Oh, and Julian holding his ever-present Rum and Coke and a plethora of shopping carts.
The backyard is supposed to be your oasis, a place to unwind, relax and crack open a cold one after a long day at work. Mine is a landmine of beer bottles. Sure they are corralled and set aside for the next jaunt to The Beer Store, but until they grow their own legs and feet and motor under their own power, those bottles will probably remain there until the next house party.
And, the weeds. Oh my christ, the weeds. About seven years ago, my first tenant thought it would be wise to use the soil provided by the townhouse complex instead of forking over the $14 for legitimate (and weed-free) topsoil. Now, it's Jurassic Park where I fear the 12-ft. dandelions will wrap their tenticles around Kao's legs and drag him away. If it was a jungle look I was going for, I hit the jackpot.
The funny thing is that this is actually improvement. It was worse. I had an ornamental grass planting in one of the gardens with a root system that would have attracted the attention of the Discovery Channel. Three back-breaking days later and we have an empty plot, now ready for new soil and plants. The root system had gone down as far as three feet, and in order to ensure the grass' certain demise, we removed it all. I say "we" but my task was to hold the garbage bags and try not to swim in the sea of mud that did not make it into the bag.
I don't know why I'm admitting to this horticultural downfall. Maybe it's so if I go MIA from Scribing Life for a week that you, my bloggers, will send out a search party, arrange for overhead surveillance and organize a covert mission to get me the hell out. To save me from myself and my garden.
With the "ornamental" grass gone, the next mission is to tackle the weeds so Kao can do his business without fear. God help Bella if she ever decides to explore. Wish me luck, bloggers. And if I don't make it back, don't forget the Scribe. Otherwise, I'll throw weed seeds at you and plant Jurassic-like grasses in your garden beds. So there.