We are lazy people at our house. I mean seriously lazy. We usually get all the crucial stuff done – meet our work deadlines, get our child to school, pay the bills, etc. – but the little things tend to languish. I don’t fold laundry in a timely manner. Paperwork piles up. Emails go unanswered. I don’t always make my bed.
(I know. For some of you, the bed is a deal breaker. But, hey… if you can’t be honest on your own blog, what’s the point?)
Jeff is the one who mows the lawn around here. It’s his job. (I do house; he does yard.) And though I’ve managed to cajole him into mowing the front yard pretty regularly this summer, he has not mowed the backyard. At all. Not one single time, all summer long. Nor has he trimmed the bushes that surround our backyard – azaleas and honeysuckle and God knows what else. Not once, all summer.
Did I mention it’s summer?
We live in the Lowcountry of South Carolina, where things grow fast and tall and deep dark green… especially in summertime. All spring and into late June, I begged (and bugged) Jeff to cut the grass and trim the bushes. He was always “too busy” or “taking a nap.” (In his defense, he really is a very busy man, and he deserves the occasional nap.) Eventually, I got fed up and announced that I was going to cut the grass myself.
“No, no… you can’t handle that decrepit lawn mower. It’s my job. I’ll do it,” he assured me.
That was about a month ago. It still hasn’t happened.
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Now, obviously, I haven’t been that upset about our wayward backyard. If I were, I truly would have taken matters into my own hands. Instead, I used Jeff’s laziness as an excuse to indulge my own. I never replanted the pots on our back deck, where last year I grew flowers and basil and bright red peppers. Meh, I thought, looking at my uncut lawn… Why bother? The yard looks like hell and I’m out of potting soil and I feel like taking a nap, anyway.
So, you probably think we’re coming to the moral of the story – the part where I learn my lesson and say I’ll never be lazy again. But guess what? As I sat on my deck drinking wine last evening, it occurred to me that I like my yard like this. The untrimmed bushes look wild and lush, and there are all these weird plants flourishing and vines snaking across the grass. (Okay, you’ll say they’re weeds, and I’m sure they are, but I find them attractive.) And the pots on my deck? There are all sorts of interesting things growing in them now. The basil seems to have come back on its own, so have the flowers, and one pot’s sprouting something that looks like a baby pine tree. As I sipped my chardonnay on my old wooden deck, Jeff came out to join me. He surveyed his realm and sighed, “The yard looks terrible,” bracing himself for a good, naggish “I told you so.”
But I surprised him – and myself – and said, “I like it. I feel like I’m in Africa. Like I’ve got my own private little jungle back here.” I didn’t say it to make him feel better – I meant it – but it did, I think, and instead of a fight, we had a delightful time chatting on our deck, trying to identify the tree growing out of that pot.
I know it can’t last forever, of course. We will eventually have to cut the grass and trim the bushes and it will be ten times harder than it had to be. And I guess that’s the moral of the story.
But maybe not the only one.
August 2, 2014 at 9:59 pm
My girlfriend suggested I read this and , although I ALWAYS enjoy reading your write-ups, articles, stories, whatever they’re called, I just have to tell you that this blog had me jumping in the air, with a fist-pumping YAY! I normally don’t have such strong opinions (my friends would now be screaming in protest here), but I actively detest grass and manicured yards. So….a big cheer from me here and congratulations on seeing the beauty of nature gone wild. Hang onto that …. at least until your neighbors report you to the authorities, at which time I will be happy to bail you out .
August 2, 2014 at 10:15 pm
Thanks, Dorothy! I’m so happy to have back-up!
August 3, 2014 at 8:24 pm
We are family, you, Jeff and me
. My wife is from another planet, the one with trimmed everything.