Last weekend I had a stark realization… maybe it wasn’t such a shock, in fact, maybe I’ve had this same realization before, but neverless, it felt like a first time thing this past weekend… the realization: I am not a grass person. I’m no good at grass. And I do not mean the grass you smoke, I mean the grass that most people manage to grow in their yards. I am not good at growing grass. Grass? you ask. How hard is grass? Isn’t grass what everyone does? Sigh. Its true friends, I am no good at grass. I may putter hours away all year on my flowers, my vegetable gardens… not that I’m any sort of green thumb genius, but I can at least get by and grow those things. I have more plants in my house than I can count that I somehow manage to keep alive. But grass? just plain ordinary grass, I have to talent for. And maybe I have no talent for it because I have little inspiration for it. I certainly enjoy mowing the grass on the weekends- although my enjoyment is probably more the excuse to be outside and less the actual grass cutting. But seriously I’m just downright ashamed of my grass growing skills and am beginning to dispair of ever having a decent, grassy looking yard.
At this moment, half of the front yard, closest to the driveway, is rather sparse sad looking grass. It doesn’t grow well and has a few bare patches thanks to our run in with grubs and the skunks who tear up your yard looking for grubs to eat. Last year I managed to poison the grubs, but the yard still bears the scars. The right of way between the sidewalk and the street still won’t grow grass since the city replaced the sidewalk 3 years ago! I’ve tried a few times, but the soil is bad and I lose interest and neglect it, so no grass has really taken root and stuck around. Not to mention the backyard! The back yard grass was sad when I moved in and is sadder still now. The 6 huge pine trees that I hate continue to keep the ground clear under and around them, and seem to spread their piney influence further into the yard each year. There are dog paths, random bare patches, horrible very compacted soil, and about a zillion dandelions. But grass? just plain ordinary grass? Not so much.
When I drive through my neighborhood I am comforted to realize my yard is certainly not the worst yard around, there are several yards that look much more neglected than mine, and there are some right about the same as mine. But there are also some beautiful, weed free, lush, green, grassy yards that make me drool (like my neigbhor Marie’s yard). They make me wish I was good at grass, but still no more interested in spending more time on the grass than on the flowers, vegetables, and houseplants.
Sigh. I guess we can’t all be grass people.
Maybe in my quest for a spouse I should add that to the list of necessary qualifications, you know:
-good with grass…