The Yard and I will reach understanding

Now that Fantasy Fest is over and I’m not spending all my free time helping build a mobile water park to tool down Duval Street in Key West for a few hours, I have to again face my nemesis The Yard.

And The Yard knows I’m coming for it.

In just the last two weeks, while the final details were being put in place for Fantasy Fest, The Yard has dropped four large palm fronds into the driveway and two into the road.

The coconut palms have grown another 300 or so pounds of silly green ovoids, all out of my reach with my tallest step ladder, and the intermittent patches of grass I had beaten back with killer have begun to sprout again.

The incessant rains we had for a couple of weeks watered The Yard better than I could ever hope to when I had delusions of keeping the grass alive and manicured, and it’s now shooting up about knee high in certain places, and coming back out in areas where I have long had it dead.

We don’t have an understanding, The Yard and I.

The Yard does what it wants. I can either react, or just give up and stay inside and not have to look at The Yard.

The problem with the latter choice is that we have small dogs. I’m concerned they will get lost in the grass and we’ll never find them again.

Sunday afternoon, before we departed for Key West to tow the Fantasy Fest float home and put it away for another six months, I began to assess my arsenal I would need to combat The Yard.

I have two gallons of green killer in the shed and a working spray bottle. The first dry weekend day I get I plan to use every drop of that killer on the recalcitrant grass currently occupying The Yard.

I’m going to tow home the flat bed trailer and use it as a platform from which to climb my tallest step ladder and viciously cut off the palm fronds that have again grown to the point where they want to hug the ground from 30 feet in the air.

I have the weed eater handy so I can finish off any grass that won’t succumb to the killer spray.

I have a box of trash bags to throw the grass into so it can be hauled off by the next Waste Management truck. I have my reciprocal saw loaded and ready to cut the palm fronds into the correct length so they can be stuffed in a trash can and hauled off by the same Waste Management truck.

Any wildly growing tree that intends to stand in my way will meet the wrath of my chain saw, and will then be cut up into little pieces to meet the same Waste management truck.

The bits of food and stuffed animals left around the yard by the dogs will be bagged and tossed in the trash to meet the same Waste management truck.

If the dogs object too much, they might just have a date with the same….nah…can’t go there.

The vines that are trying to again take control of my fence line will be pulled and tugged into submission, stuffed into a black trash bag and tossed out for that same Waste Management truck.

The weeds that grow into trees will be cut down by the chain saw and tossed out. The ones that have already grown into trees and constantly break off into the roof of the hot tub enclosure will meet the wrath of the chain saw, and then the stoic trip to the road for the final mission on the Waste Management truck.

The rakes are ready. Or rather, the rake is ready. I broke two rakes last time The Yard and I tried to come to an understanding.

I will not let The Yard win this battle.

If I have to cut, saw and rake all weekend, The Yard will know who the master is before the battle is over.

The leaf blower stands at the ready on the shed shelf to blow the tree droppings into a pile to meet the black trash bag to meet the trash can to take a ride in the Waste Management truck.

I have the pole saw sharpened and ready to trim the wildly growing branches on the Jamaican caper and the two ficus trees that never behave the way I want them to. And if they give me too much grief, they too will suffer the wrath of the chain saw, the ignominy of the black trash bag and the final ride in the Waste Management truck.

I plan on taking no prisoners. I plan on showing no mercy.

The Yard and I are going to come to an understanding.

And if you see me on a Monday, all stooped and bent and crying, you’ll know that The Yard and I reached an understanding. I understand that The Yard is tougher than I am.

2 Comments »

2 Responses to “The Yard and I will reach understanding”

Comments

1. Marlene Slaght Nov 10 2011 / 11pm

   Aw, c’mon Steve, let the grass grow. What’s beneath the grass? Pea rock, I bet. Gotta’ tell ya’, even though I know that trying to keep a lawn in this sub-tropical climate requires perhaps a few more things to keep it green and lush, like water. But think of all that poison you’re spreading all over your yard, which very likely sits atop one of the aquifers known to exist in the Keys. Now to percolate down beyond the marl takes some time, but it can happen. Stop wasting your money on those god-awful chemicals, and if ya’ gotta’ get rid of the weeds, or grass, or whatever it is that pisses you off, do it the old fashioned, time tested way: get down in there and begin pulling them out. Get the family involved if you have to. Have a weed pulling party. Don’t poison the earth anymore than it has been already. What do your dogs do when you spray? I wouldn’t let them get anywhere near that stuff. And it smells pretty stinky, too. Like I said, stop trying so hard to battle mother nature – she’s gonna’ win anyway. So why not let it fill in? Let the grass grow. It’s much prettier than pea rock, even if it has bald spots. And yes, I hate pea rock. With a passion. It’s ugly, and there’s all the dust it gives off. Certainly not inviting, that’s for sure. It is one yoogly looking yard cover. Give in to the green :)
2. Marlene Slaght Nov 10 2011 / 11pm

   Oh, and just to let you know, I love your column – you make me laugh out loud sometimes. And that’s meant as a compliment! Thanks, and keep it coming….