yard work

Yard Work Now and Then

When I was a kid, I never dreamed I’d enjoy yard work. It was a punishment then, literally, usually precipitated by Daddy’s anger. We’d get the bad news the day before. “When I get home from work tomorrow, there better not be a leaf down anywhere in this yard.” Daddy would proclaim. “I don’t want to hear any excuses.” My mood plummeted.

Daddy woke us before he left for work the next morning with a variable mood, either falsely cheerful or still angry from whatever precipitated the sentence of yard work. Yard cleaning meant raking leaves, picking up branches, and hauling the detritus to a burning area. We owned one good yard broom, one snaggletoothed yard broom , one rake, and a wheelbarrow.

We started out by fighting over the yard broom, the easiest and most efficient tool. Nobody wanted the snaggletoothed yard broom or rake. The worst job was hauling the leaves to the burn pile. None of us wanted that job, leading to another round of fighting. The shouts and insults usually brought Mother out to intervene before blood was drawn. That was one rule universally acknowledged. Never injure a sibling to the point of necessitating medical care.

Mother would threaten enough to get us properly started. She assumed a supervisory role and reminded us of our mission and consequences should we fail. In desperation and misery, we’d settle down to our task. After an interminable day of yard work interspersed with fighting, we’d finally finish the hated task. Should we not be able to finish for some reason, Mother would vouch for us, explaining to Daddy why we couldn’t finish. Maybe one of us ran a high fever and broke out with measles or perhaps Aunt Esther and Mawmaw stopped by asking Mother to let us play with our cousins while they visited. Mawmaw was familiar with the work/punishment principle from her marriage and interceded when she could. I admire her for that. It does a kid good to know someone’s on their side even if it doesn’t change their life much.

Failing that, there was no quarter for lazy kids. Punishment was swift and sure with whippings all around and an extra measure of work the next day.

Yard Cartoons

Thanks for the Lawn and RIP Charley

I will be forever grateful to our late neighbor Charley for our lush lawn. When we moved to our home forty years ago, our two acres was almost entirely in trees.

There wasn’t a blade of grass except for the front yard. We love shade, but didn’t want to live in a forest. We got busy clearing out the the excess. Sixty trees later, we still have plenty of shade. The other trees grew tall and strong.

Thanks to our drinking neighbor, Charley, we got a lush lawn with none of the work. This is one case where heavy drinking turned out well. Charley got out early every morning to tend his lawn. He turned the water on early, and by ten, was snookered. It ran till his wife got home from work every evening . Living downhill, we got the benefit of all that water, seed, and fertilizer. What a gracious gift!

Thank you Charley. Oh, The drink got him. RIP.

I love a sun-dappled lawn.

We still have plenty of trees.

Dirty Women

pig in slopI just get dirty. I don’t mean my shoes have little smudges. I look like I fell in the garbage every day. I don’t understand it. When I worked, I dressed and left the house just like everyone else. By the time I got to work, I had stepped in something, spilled coffee on myself, or rubbed up against something and gotten a spot on my clothes. As the day went on, I was sure to end up with ink spots on my hands and/or clothes and have a few spots. I sponged the worst off, but still got home a mess.
I wear my oldest clothes in the yard and make no effort to stay clean. After a few hours of digging, hauling, moving rocks, and planting, I look like I have been rolling in the mud. That doesn’t bother me in the least. When I am done working, I just drop the clothes in the washer, and get straight in the shower.
My mother and two of my sisters stay crisp and clean. Mother can wear white and work all day and look like she’s dressed for a garden party. My other sister is like me. She looks like she works on a garbage truck. What in the world do people do who stay clean? Is it magic?

I Am Whipped

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Saturday my two sisters and I went over to help Mother a little. She’d gotten a bit behind on her gardening and was starting to stew about it. She had a mess. There were about fifteen plants that were going to die if we didn’t get them in the ground immediately We worked frantically weeding, cultivating, fertilizing, and planting for several hours. By the time we were through, it looked good. I thought we were all done, but As I loaded my stuff in my truck, I stumbled over half a dozen more she had stashed in a front bed. I wanted to cry, but was too tired to dig and plant any more.
I went back over today to finish the planting and cut some small trees that had sprung up in her hedges. It was such a relief to get to a quitting place and have a glass of tea.
As I went to load my truck to go home. I found several flats of annuals sitting in the shade. I KNOW those weren’t there Saturday! She has no shame!