So I made the annual call to my perennial buddy and confidante in matters urgent and of eternal import, Mr. John Gamble, the other day.
You know the call.
You're a guy. You've got a lawn that one hundred days ago looked, well, presentable in civilized company. You know enough to know when it's time to call someone to come mow the damn thing. And even there was that non sports-related Sunday when you actually threw a few grass seeds around and got some satisfactory results. But this week you woke up and it looks like JiffyPop went all Green on you and it did so on your property. Like your yard hit puberty and got acne. Overnight.
They say write about what you know. This day I'm writing about what I don't.
So I called Gamble. Again. Because he knows all about that which I don't. And is he ever getting tired of it.
No, Mitchell, it isn't normal to desire to till up your yard every Spring and start over. Calm down. Mow it , then we'll discuss some chemicals like we do every year, and maybe we can put out that hair fire of yours. And yes, you may be right about how it might not have been such a great idea to not include a place for storage of yard treatment equipment. Maybe a rake at least. A hose. Do you even have out door faucets? Because there will be that phone call in July wondering about irrigation tractors, or however you tend to phrase it.
But what about? Nope. It'll be fine. But wha..? No, and no.
But isn't this year different? Haven't we had a month's worth of days where it rains all night and then the sun beats down all day? That's like industro-tararium, right? I mean, we've got Dino-Vines climbing up into our upstairs bathroom window ! Out of nowhere! We've got Japanese Maple trees--once left for dead--thriving among weeds in a forever-neglected pot. And those purple shrubs in the corner of the wrought iron fence surely weren't there last Spring; because the fence wasn't there last spring. And they're now taller than the fence. Sure, the budding trees are borderline glamorous, and I've pin-pointed a few dove(?) nests; but the panning down reveals an absolute orgy of molecular activity that I swear you can not only see in real time | you can almost hear. God's fertilizer beats anything Ken-Mo Ag is selling, I'm just saying...
And so it grows...
Candy and I had to cancel a Mizzou March Madness Brascketball Game Watching Party Friday (hope it was a winning one) on account of the potential public getting-lostedness-in-the-wilderness. Come to think of it, thank the aforementioned God for the aforementioned wrought iron fence. It is the only fortified structure holding back the forces of Nature to this point.
And so I guess we'll mow... And once again, as Maharishi Gamble assures, all will be well.
In lawns, as in life, All We Need Is Love.
And some 13-13-13.
Brian K. Mitchell, an R.Ph., is the owner of Mitchell Pharmacy in Kennett. He can be contacted via
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