I spent Saturday doing just a few of the items on my huge mental to-do list for the yard and gardens.
I nearly hurt myself trying to decide what to do about the new property line. My neighbor had his property surveyed, in preparation for building a half-pipe for his son (thankfully, on the opposite side of his house from ours). It turns out the property line isn't even remotely where he and I both thought it was. It goes pretty much right down the middle of my long perennial bed, and shaves a good third right through the Cheminitz Patch. Mad Musician, after I crossly grumped about my now legally-divided beds, reminded me that it won't be an issue as long as this neighbor owns his house, as he is a nice guy, and a fellow gardening geek besides. I do want to be sure not to put anything of great importance on the wrong side of the line, in case we ever do put up a fence. The I Hate You Tree (now with three near-horizontal branches and no clear leader) seems to be on our property by about four inches, which probably won't be enough once it has grown to maturity. Oh, well. Straddling the property line and causing terrible neighborly strife fifty years from now is just another way my treasured Osage orange expresses its vile contempt for all humanity.
For once, I successfully used the lawn mower without swearing at it or kicking something (I'm not stupid enough to kick the mower. I have my limits.) Because Mad Musician was home, and available at a moment's notice if I needed help, I didn't need any help, other than to switch the mower to bagging in the first place. Not only did I neatly mow and bag up all the backyard leaves, I even correctly determined that the chute to the bag was getting clogged and the mower had started mulching instead of bagging. I didn't hit any bricks or dog poop, and the mower started on the first try each and every time I started it.
I suspect divine intervention.
Chopped leaves and grass clippings went over the west vegetable beds, which were new this year and are still quite stiff and dead from being sod the year before. They'll be in nice shape for next spring. The hoses are drained of water, a good eight pounds of lovely, plumb heirloom carrots - the only vegetable of all the heirloom seeds I planted this year to give me a decent crop - were dug and rinsed, and the rain barrel was emptied and stashed in the garage for the winter. Everything looks neat, tidy, and gathered in.
Now that I'm ready for the snow to fly, we're having a weird stretch of 70-degree days. Gotta love the Midwest.
Comments