Working on My Yard

September 29, 2021 — Pat Bertram

I had a lovely surprise today. It’s not just me who is working on my yard, but a couple of men were sent by my contractor to work on the paths in the back yard.

The metal strips in the photo define one edge of the path, and they surround the area I’ve been digging up for my mini wildflower meadow. As you can see, I still have a lot of digging to go, but with the area defined as it now is, it seems doable.

I’m always amazed by how even a little progress can be so attractive. Although the metal edging is about the pathways and the rock, the dirt area turns out to be special in its own right, with those lovely curving lines. I can imagine how beautiful it will be when the wildflowers bloom, though there is no guarantee that they will. I’m still such a neophyte, that many plants don’t make it. But I’ll keep working on it. If the seeds I plant this fall don’t sprout, I plant more in the spring.

From the photo, it seems to be a sun-dappled area, shaded by a neighbor’s tree, but in the summer, when the sun is high, it’s sunny enough for most flowers, with a bit of shade in the hottest part of the afternoon to keep the poor things from desiccating.

My gardens and the yard — my micro estate — are still mostly a fantasy created out of gardening dreams, but if I keep learning, keep trying, keep doing, eventually, I will end up with a beautiful place.

Oddly, I never intended any of this. I just wanted some sort of ground cover I could throw out there that would take care of itself and look pretty. It was the contractor who thought the paths would help make the place safe for me since he knew I wanted to elder-proof my yard, and I went along with it because it sounded like a good idea. It never occurred to me that the finished product (in the areas where there is a finished product) would be so charming.

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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

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A Woman’s Work

September 2, 2021 — Pat Bertram

I went out this morning to do a few gardening chores. I planned to spend only a short time because it was later than I normally go out and I expected it to be hot and humid. It rained last night, but only for a few minutes and barely got the ground wet, but it did leave behind a lot of humidity. Surprisingly, there was also a bit of cool in the breeze, so I decided to make use of the cooler temperatures to consolidate the construction rubbish pile that had been left behind when the old garage was torn down and the new one built. That pile was an unsightly mess, longer than fifteen feet, wider than six feet, and perhaps knee high. The contractor kept telling me they’d haul the stuff away but, as with so many of my jobs, it wasn’t a priority for them. Although it didn’t bother them, it did bother me. Six-foot tall weeds were growing on the other side of the pile where I couldn’t reach, and I wanted to be able to get behind the pile so I could clear them away.

I started out picking up the easy pieces and throwing them in the dumpster. Not necessarily easy to carry, you understand but easy to get to, because after more than two years of wood being dumped in that spot, it was jumbled like a giant game of pick-up-sticks. After a while, a neighbor noticed what I was doing and asked if I minded if he took some of the boards I’d thrown away. I told him he could have whatever he wanted, so he came and helped me sort through the wood. The best pieces I set aside, the worst I threw away, and the middling boards he took. He was excited to see the old garage supports — oak four-by-fours — and I was glad he wanted them.

My few minutes of outside work ended up being a few hours. After the neighbor went home with his loot, I noticed my keeper lumber pile was just as much of an eyesore as the original pile, so I hauled those boards — some long two-by-fours, some short, and a few two-by-eights — to the garage and stacked them neatly against the wall. I am exhausted now, of course, and very hot because the cooling breeze didn’t last, but I am thrilled to have eradicated something that’s been a problem for me for so long. Even better, I now will be able to clear out the weeds the proliferated behind that junk heap and prepare the area for planting hollyhocks this fall.

It does seem as if that adage, “A woman’s work is never done,” is correct.

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What if God decided S/He didn’t like how the world turned out, and turned it over to a development company from the planet Xerxes for re-creation? Would you survive? Could you survive?

A fun book for not-so-fun times.

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