Differences

This morning broke bright and early and loud with birds. It is spring in my little town despite the thirty something degrees with spitting snow that hit us Saturday. And today it got up to sixty something with a cloudless sky and a strong willed breeze.

I spent the morning luxuriating my way through pork and cooked apples with brown sugar, played a few senseless games on the computer and rejoiced in the fact that after a rather lengthy period of being sick and weak, I was enjoying nourishing food made by my own hand, once again.

Around one o'clock I decided that I was bored enough to make work sound like fun. I put on my cap and some good work clothes, grabbed a water bottle and headed out into the glare of sunlight. It was perfectly pleasant and I put my back into digging up, raking, molding and reshaping my small vegetable garden; tossing out the stones, collecting the clay, making it ready for the planting that should happen late April/early May.

When I stopped to grab a sip of water I would turn toward the house and see my three-year-old, black furred monster staring at me with vibrant yellow eyes, meowing through the glass. I worked until the main plot was done and my trenches dug.

 

 



It looks a little like badly dug grave. I was tempted to put up a grave stone. "Here lies the garden, which will rise from its rest sometime in August." Or maybe just a cross made of sticks, and let the obnoxious neighbor kids wonder.

But I had other fish to fry.

Last year I planted the beginnings of a flower garden behind our garage. Long, long ago that prime sunlit space was reserved for an herb garden and a stone path and several other niceties. We even had a pond. In point of fact this garden space above used to be part of a waterfall that started at the red pump and cascaded into a small pool of its own. But I like it better as a garden. Easier to take care of.

So, too, is my 'flower garden' in the back. It needed some weeding and sorting so I worked my way back there and first tackled the bent over, sagging, broken backed mess that used to be a lattice supporting morning glories.

They do well in the summer...

But by the time windy fall and snow heavy winter has passed, they are a dried crumpled heap leaning over and breaking apart the lattice.

This year they were heavy enough to topple the cinder block that I was using to support the post that was tied to the lattice.

All winter I have been pondering a better way of letting them climb, while not spending money and having it be..."me".

I'm so proud of this thing. I made it! I sunk the feet of it about three inches into the ground and I'm hoping that the tri-pod-esque base will distribute the weight of the plant and maybe make some interesting photos once the flowers bloom.

A good friend of mine, after seeing this photo, has determined that the 'evil' morning glories will take it down without a problem. I'd like to the think the amount of time I spent pounding crooked nails in with a hatchet will count for something.

I couldn't find a hammer.

So after my Morning Glory Oil Derek went up I tore the weeds out of a patch of nothing then played a game of find the lilies.

I planted these Asiatic lilies last year and they bloomed right about the start of July. A month later the blooms had fallen off and all I had was tall, beheaded stalks. But here they are, all five, growing away. I could swear that some of them have migrated since last year...

I had planted some other things back here the year before but I didn't see anything else that looked more like flower and less like weed. I was tired and about ready to call it a day anyway so I began to clean up the yard.

After a quick run to the store I was able to put spinach leaves, frozen berries and soy milk into the blender and I took my yummy smoothie (not a health freak, just happen to appreciate smoothies, as they save time) out into the yard.

I walked around a bit admiring the plants and trees, some of which have been in our yard since my mother and father planted them over thirty years ago. We have a patch of pine trees and a giant honeysuckle bush/tree. A few oaks and one maple tree. In the back I was pleased to find my rhubarb growing strong after the last few days of rain. A few more of those days and I'll have my first harvest.

I stood under the old white pine, enjoying its shade and the natural wind chimes of the breeze in the needles and the wind coming in off the farmer's field that backs up right against our property.

My next door neighbor had been out all day too, which is his routine on any day that ends in 'y'. My neighbor, Mr. Forester, is the Mr. Monk of lawn care. On hands and knees with scissors going after crab grass. Cuts the bushes with level in hand to get perfectly straight lines every time. He has two dogwood trees, precisely eight feet apart, with trunks centered in a perfect square of grassless dirt. His garden is a rectangle in which he plants the same crops, in perfect straight rows, every year.

He has bushes and some flowers around the front of his house, and one large shade tree, and grass. Thick, green, manicured, rolled, weed free grass.

There are none of these in his lawn...

I can remember Mom telling us expressly not to mow over these for fear that they wouldn't come back up. Not that I intentionally mowed over them, but on the rare occasions that I accidentally did, they clearly didn't seem bothered at all. And they only grow under the shade of the maple tree.

A little splash of beauty in our slightly rustic yard that simply doesn't exist next door.

I stood at the back of our property, peering around the end of our neighbor's wooden slat fence, staring at his squared, over treated, boring yard eternally grateful for the dappled, dirt worn, crooked, stick strewn, patchy glory of my back yard.

The more I stared at his geometrical landscaping the more I realized that, in total opposition to my own feelings, he probably LIKED his yard that way. After all he spent every waking hour out caring for it.

I would be perfectly unbothered by his peculiarities and be able, even, to enjoy them a little if it weren't for the fact that he had been forcing his yard care beliefs on my family for decades. But a small amount of the old bitterness was wiped away by two things. First...I don't care what he says, I like my home, outside and inside, and I will improve it as I see fit. And second...though I've never felt envy for his yard, ever, I did feel sorta sorry for its dullness today.

I think I should sneak in some night and plant something. Smack in the middle of the yard. Like a cactus. But a nice flowering cactus. See what he does.

As the beautiful day continued I took pity on the monster and allowed him a little time outside, keeping very close tabs on my otherwise 'inside' cat. He explored for a frolicking ten minutes before signalling he was ready to go back in. And of course five minutes of 'in' time and he was meowing to go back out again.

Didn't happen.

I was delighted though and I'm looking forward to more great planting days in the future. In the meantime I'm still thinking about my neighbor and his infatuation with his yard and wondering...is there some way to bond the rift that has existed between him and my family since before I can remember?

Maybe a friendship cactus isn't so far fetched an idea?

I may be grinning impishly now but, if they were a way to make peace between our two households, I hope it comes during the growing season.