I hate spring. It’s a time of new life. A time when the world awakes from its winter slumber. Flowers bloom, birds sing and the green grass grows all around. Except on my front yard.
My yard is mostly dirt and some scraggly weeds. My neighbors all have green, lush grass. Even the neighbor whose lawn abuts mine. Her grass is healthy and there is a visible line where my property begins and the grass ends. It’s not like I haven’t tried. I’ve fertilized, limed, added nitrogen and sowed pounds and pounds of grass seed. I’ve watered and I’ve watch the seeds sprout and grow, only to turn brown and die.
I suspect that my lawn is cursed. Perhaps it is situated over ancient Native American burial grounds and the spirits are angry.
So, I hate spring because when the snow melts it reveals my utter failure to grow grass.
This year, maybe even on Saturday, I am going to dig up the sparse vegetation that is masquerading as a lawn and replace it with something more sustainable – like high bush blueberries, cement or lawn ornaments.
Meanwhile, I welcome any suggestions from those of you who have conquered your own small corner of this planet.