Why does it seem I get stuck with all of the "guy" stuff?
With spring having sprung we have some serious yard work to do. There are patches in the lawn that are missing grass, shrubs to be trimmed, leaves and debris to be raked from under the porch, the back of bushes, etc.
Having never had a lawn before we have absolutely no lawn care equipment.
My shopping list this morning looked like this:
Lawn Tiller Thingy
The onion, olive oil, green pepper and Italian dressing were pretty easy but once I got to the hardware store I was standing in the aisle, rocking Garrett's stroller back and forth and staring with slack-jawed amazement at just how many rakes man had deemed necessary to create.
I asked an employee for assistance and after he asked me a few questions he said, "We have a rake over here that changes sizes." He picked up this adorable (can rakes be adorable) little silver thing and throwing a lever he adjusted the width of the prongs from wide to narrow.
It was cool. I was sold. Whether or not it is what I need is yet up for interpretation.
Next, it was off to find fertilizer and grass seed.
I turned the corner and once again I was astounded by how many different brands and kinds of seed and fertilizer that were available.
Looking in vain for the bag that said, "BUY ME, YOU MORON!" I settled on a bag of grass seed that claimed to be 99.9% free of weeds and had mulch and fertilizer included.
Sounded pretty idiot proof to me.
"Lawn tiller thingy," I mused.
What the heck is a "lawn tiller thingy" and why do I need one?
I'm sure I had good reason for putting it on my list but I couldn't remember anymore. In my ignorance of lawn care I don't think I have to dig up the soil to plant some grass seed.
I read the back of the bag of seed. The instructions said to rake the area bare and add the seed. HAHA.. I have a cool rake with which to do that so I don't need a lawn tiller thingy.
On my way to the check out I passed a kiosk filled with garden seeds. Cucumbers, tomatoes, spices, green peppers, pumpkins, squash, all beckoned to me in their brightly colored packaging.
I picked up a package of basil and images of a beautifully lush garden with shining, healthy, organic fruits and vegetables danced in my head.
There I was with a little straw hat and delicate gloves filling a wicker basket to the brim with masterfully home-grown goods. Oh, and there I was snipping fresh spices to add to delicious dishes, slicing my plump green peppers and mouth-watering carrots.
As I poised the package of basil over my shopping basket I looked up and saw the aisle of gardening tools. There were scoops, rakes, claws, hooks, tillers, soil, sprays of all shapes, sizes, warnings and cautions, doodly-wobles and snookle-tunkers... yeah, all that stuff I can't even name.
The happy images of happy gardening were banished with floating dollar signs and more ominous images of digging and weeding and spraying and sickly looking produce not fit for anything but a mulch heap.
I put the basil back in the kiosk and silently thanked God for reminding me I wasn't ready to take on a garden. One day, maybe, I'll satisfy the pleasant images of cooking with my own-grown vegetables and herbs but not until I master lawn care.