The yard. Once a token of pride for me. I would plant flowers and deweed the rather large brick patio. Last year Matt, The Monica, and Andrea did it whist the Cousin and I were in San Francisco. This year Matt and I did it. About $200 worth of flowers and such. It was very pretty at one time.
It was a fine yard. It had two beautiful trees, with one a bit ill but trying desperately to survive. The patio, while not the best was wonderful to sit out and have wine and chat and such things. But of course that was those were the times when Andrea lived in Cowtown...and before The Monica was dating. It was a time of wonder in the land of the village. And things were good.
Two-Thousand-One brought a fine Springtime. And with such weather, young boys in the village with property and dirt are want to plant flowers and make things pretty. Such was the case at 356.
And so he dug up the old wooden boards one cool Sunday morning and reset them to give the walkway balance and keep it in check. And the other helped make sure they were in.
Then the two went out. They went out and bought flats of impatients and begonias and marigolds. They seeded some areas with new grass, and planted a yard that even Martha, looking down from the other lands would be proud of.
Many hours were spent. At night it was watered. It was raked and kept beautiful with flowers in pots and a little lilac on its fourth year.
What Laziness Does...
Now it should never have happened. But the troublesome lawnmower used to cut the grass broke. And his new job took him to Boston for a week and they neglected his yardly duties.
This was June. Summer had not fully set in. The humidity and dank that is a Cowtown July was creeping in slowly but it was not here yet.
And yet they remained lazy. They did not work hard. They did not care.
And all the beauty they had brought forth retreated into the vastness that was the weed.
Such a sad site really. The poor small black and tan dog...unable to walk through the huge savannah grasslands that the yard had become. Entangled in morning glory vines that were running rampant, the small hoont even got ensnared once. It was sad.
And thus it came to pass. The beaury gone. The grasslands overtaking the patio each day. And no lawnmower to cut the vegetation so growing...cancerously throughout the place.
The Deforestation Begins
It will require work. But that has already started. The deforestation began on Saturday. Too late really for a full day could not be given.
The poor fences that provided a no-hoont zone so the young budding flowers and plants could grown was overtaken by the morning glories. They claimed it as their own and would not return it.
But in time...perhaps it can be made livable again. And the two who should have maintained the beautiful yard...they shall burn in hell.
The casualties so far:
6 Begonias
A plethora of marigolds
The jesus cross made of marigolds
Many dusty millers
The patio
The wounded:
40 or so impatients
12 marigolds
6 hostas
2 lilys