I just came back from my new yard. As it is with all homes that have been vacant for a while, the yard could use some TLC. It has its share of weeds, odd plants that seem like they would be more at home in the jungle, and yes, crabgrass.
I didn’t initially notice the crabgrass. You never do when something is new to you. You seem to have rose colored glasses on your eyes that don’t allow you to see the fact that your lush green lawn is really mostly crabgrass broken up by the occasional weed.
I really could have sworn that this wasn’t the case. I was really sure that the yard was one of those yards where the grass was grown on a grass farm, then transported here where it took root, looking all freshly mowed and manicured – the perfect yard.
Of course, it wasn’t. It was filled with problems, ones that I just didn’t want to see. Instead of everything coming up roses, however, it was a blooming nightmare.
And if you think I’ve gone all Ed Hume on you (he was the master gardener here in Seattle for many years), I haven’t. I still have my brown thumb, the same one that reduced the flora and fauna in my yard in Port Orchard from 55 species of plants and flowers to five or so, all in desperate need of fish poop and Ed.
As usual, I’m talking about something else entirely here. As you know, I have always had a “grass is always greener” mentality when it comes to relationships. Like the pristine yard I was driving by before I rented this place, my new relationships seemed so wonderful and problem free.
That’s because the grass was greener. Initially, it would be too. Just as I walk the yard now and think of all its potential, I would jump head long into a new relationship thinking, ah, this is the perfect one… this is the one I’ve been searching for all my life.
Eventually, however, I would start to notice the weeds. They were just starting to show themselves, hiding behind all that green grass, waiting for me to take root. At first, I thought they wouldn’t be a huge problem. They were just weeds. Everyone at my age has weeds. We can’t escape them and no amount of denial or Round Up is going to get rid of them all.
In fact, I could even convince myself that I liked the weeds. I would say, “no problem, honey, that doesn’t bother me at all.” And then the weeds would start to bother me. Not because they were weeds, but they dead set on becoming really big weeds. Weeds that would spread like wildfire.
Now that I’m in dandelion land, I’m reminded of being kid. As a kid, you thought dandelions were amazing. It’s not that you knew that you could eat them, or that someone would ever think of serving them to you on a $25 salad in a fancy restaurant. No, the magic was when they became a ball of fluff. You couldn’t resist blowing on them. It was all day entertainment.
As you became an adult, you learned that all those little wafting fuzzies created more weeds in your yard. You cursed the neighborhood kid for standing in his yard blowing them downwind into yours.
That’s the problem with weeds in your life. You let one go and soon there are more, and often bigger, weeds.
Such is the case in my relationships. Eventually, I started to notice that the grass wasn’t greener. It was filled with weeds. More weeds than my last yard and no amount of weeding was going to get rid of them. That’s because your significant other was standing in the yard, blowing more weed makers into your life.
Eventually, it would happen. You realized that the yard you had, the one with all those weeds you cursed daily, wasn’t as bad as the yard you were in now. You longed for the comparatively maintenance free yard that you used to have because you simply can’t stand the weeds you’re living with now.
And to think you were delusional enough to think that this was the yard you always wanted. You even thought you were in love with the yard. There was no weeding to do, no manure to spread, no need to replant.
But deep down you knew that the yard was hopeless. There was no way you could control the spread of weeds because more were appearing daily. The one you thought you were in love with wasn’t what you thought they were at all. They weren’t a lush lawn – they were nothing but crabgrass.
Then the day would come. It was time to do some major pruning. Not the springtime light trim you give a yard. No, we’re talking about digging the damned thing up, root ball and all. You so loathe the lawn that was supposed to be greener that you’re going to go postal on its ass and just start over with a new lawn.
You may have already started that new lawn. But not where you live now. That would take too much work. It’s must easier to find a new yard to play in. One that is green, pristine and weed free. Ah, paradise… until you spot something out of the corner your eye.
Damn, crabgrass again.
In the Emerald City, enjoying the weeds I have in my mostly green lawn,
– Robb