Even With The Rattlesnakes

The weather has been delightfully warm, and, after a very soggy April, we’ve had some wonderful days of sunshine. I’ve opened the windows wide, am wearing flip flops on a consistent basis, and engaging in my favorite method of aerobic activity: The Power Walk. In IL, Power Walking is really quite a hazardous form of exercise during 4 months of the year. It’s just too dang cold. You could get frostbite. Or have an asthma attack. Or slip on the ice and break a fibula. Or get hit by a car because of sight impairment due the big furry hat and pashmina wrapped 7 times around your neck.Or you could get attacked by a roving caribou, because it really is that formidable on the arctic tundra that is my neighborhood during the winter months.

But now it lovely and toasty and perfect outside. So I Power Walk and enjoy the sights. But if there is a downside to this beautiful balminess, it is this: The neighbors and I shared a certain solidarity during the cold-weather months. We had snow-covered lawns and barren vegetation. Everyone’s yard was a sad-looking mess. We were on equal ground, and I rather liked that.

But now the Neighborhood Yard Competition begins. Suburbanites are extremely competitive about their lawns, and it’s a contest in which Super Hubs and I have never faired well. We suck in lawn-maintenance, quite frankly. And that is evident to all. Our lawn is patchy at best, and no matter how many tons of grass seed we sow, it remains patchy. My teenage son in charge of the mowing, which he embraces as he does every other chore he’s ever been given, with a lick and a promise. So our grass remains uneven throughout the summer, and that, combined with the patchiness and current dandelions and future weed issues, puts us at, most probably, Last Place in the Neighborhood Yard Competition. Year after year. I’m actually grateful for the August droughts because then everyone’s grass dies, and, like the winter months, our lawn will once again be on equal ground with my neighbors. (See above.)

I plunk a few planters of colorful flowers on my front porch, in hopes they will mask the lawn ugliness by drawing passerbys eyes up and away. But I think it’s like a pig wearing a prom dress. It ain’t helping. And the worst of it is that we live next door to a retired couple whose lawn would make Martha Stewart envious. It is perfect. They spend hours every day planting and fertilizing and watering, and it shows. We just don’t have the time. And that shows.

Arizona homes don’t have grass. They have dirt. And a few cacti. I was there for Spring Beak and intrigued. So I’m considering going that route and pretending it’s a southwestern theme. No more mowing or watering or competition. Hmmmm...........