The grass is greener...somewhere
Putting in new lawn isn't an easy task.
Just ask me. I'll be happy to tell you about the hours I spent in raking up the dead leaves after collecting them for the last three years, digging up two-foot by three-foot concrete blocks and hauling them out of the yard and finding all the old rib bones the dogs had buried around the yard like a pirate's treasure chest.
When everything was ready to go, I talked Brad into helping me pick up the rototiller from the rental store.
If there's one thing I've learned through the years, it's that some men like helping helpless women. For the most part, Brad is one of those men.
"I don't mind doing the tilling," I told him on the way back home. "But will you at least show me how to get it going?" I had him hooked.
We took turns tilling. He'd run it for 45 minutes and I'd take over for him for five (after all he was sweating pretty good and probably needed a drink.)
A couple of hours after we started, we finally got things finished and it was time to rake it up and get the grass planted. Brad went into the house. I think I had carried the helpless woman thing too far.
Other than the fact that I felt like I was going to die of exhaustion, the lawn was planted without incident. (I came away with all 10 fingers and all 10 toes, a real fait accompli.)
The only thing I had left to do was set back and wait for the beautiful results.
Only a week after planting, I began to see the a slight green cast covering the dirt. "Gloria," I told myself, "after all these years, you've finally developed that green thumb you've been hoping for."
Then the little specks of "grass" began to grow. Somehow they don't look like grass blades anymore. They are, however, as thick as any new lawn.
I will have one of the most lush weed patches you can ever imagine.
I think I'm going to have to amputate my green thumb.
It's all been a learning experience for me. If I hadn't decided to be so independent, I would have asked my lawn and garden guy when I should plant a new lawn. He would have told me to wait until fall.
I have about an acre of land left to turn to grass. After the dogs get done clearing out all the goathead stickers, I'm finding a good turf farm.
During my little adventure in lawn planting, I noticed something strange.
As I worked on the yard, a number of drivers nearly came to a complete stop to watch my progress.
Honestly, I was just raking the lawn, I was fully clothed, all of my body parts were firmly attached and I know that my looks are absolutely not traffic stopping. It couldn't have been that entertaining.
In order to promote safety on the street, I've decided to plant big tall bushes in front of the house. I'd hate to be responsible for any head-on collisions.
While we wait for them to grow, I think I'll put up signs along the street similar to the ones they have near the Platte River Archway in Kearney -- "Woman Working -- DO NOT STOP OR SLOW DOWN."