Monday, April 05, 2004

I blame my mother. Christie and I were in KC visiting my folks and everything was going fine, in that nothing was getting done. Oh, sure, Christie tried on a couple of wedding dresses, but that was a fluke, and it's not like we actually bought one. It was a completely non-practical Saturday, preceding what I hoped would be an equally useless Sunday in which to recover from the trauma of losing an hour. And then Mom suggested we stop by the nursery on the way home. Soil Service to be precise.

I was fine until I saw the tomatoes. Every year, I put a couple of tomato plants in the ground sometime in May or June, water them faithfully through the heat of the summer, and then they either just barely produce right before frost kills them or they produce so many tomatoes (again, all in the last few weeks of summer) that most of them end up rotting on the vine.

But it's barely April! And it's been weeks since there was even a little frost, let alone a killing frost! This year can be different! I can have wonderful, fresh tomatoes any time I want! I'll take care of them this time! I promise!

Of course, if we were going to put tomatoes in the ground, why not replenish the thyme patch? And the area in front of the kitchen window is in pretty sad shape as well. Maybe some flowers would spice it up, once we dig out the weeds and put in a border. Which brings to mind the steps down by the street. Do you think a juniper would do well there? And then there's the lawn...

In no time at all, this went from a lark to the kind of project that absolutely, positively must be finished, or else tomorrow's promised thunderstorms would turn the front yard into an apocalyptic mass of mud. And finish it we did, not merely saving the daylight, but wringing every goddamn drop out of the day, mowing in the twilight, watering in near darkness, then dragging our cranky asses in the door to become lactic acid-laced lumps on the couch, almost too tired to order takeout.

But the front yard looks great.

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