Saturday, February 11, 2017
Ray spent the day hanging drywall in the basement. I spent it being completely destroyed by The Tsar of Love and Techno. I don't know who Anthony Marra thinks he is, forcing people to spend sunny Saturday's in a reading chair with his profoundly moving book. The nerve.
(Anthony, please come to my house for tea so we can discuss your masterful, lyrical stories of abject pain and staggering beauty. Thank you.)
Wednesday, February 01, 2017
All told, the two patches of grass that constitute our entire yard (front and back) is so slight that we figured Ray, who loathes cutting grass and yard work, could whip through the entire thing in minutes.
We didn't even bother to buy a real lawnmower for a long time. Our first mower was plastic, motorless and looked like a child’s toy. I fully expected bubbles to blow out of it as Ray "mowed" with it.
Just like the back yard, we first saw the front yard when everything was dormant. And it looked cute enough, minus the overgrown evergreen bush. (Which I thought we should shape into a dinosaur.)
Then spring came and ruined what little cute we thought it had.
A carpet of ivy took over and gigantic hostas sprang from the ground and started
|WHY WHY WHY?|
|This photo is also blurry. Probably because the camera was in shock from so much lawn weirdness.|
The other problem with our front yard was that it was the ugly stepchild of the block. I felt like we were one hosta away from having a rusty car up on concrete blocks with Ray showing his butt-crack to the world while he wrenched on it. (Not that anyone would have really noticed though, did you the size of those hostas?!)
Meanwhile, the Joneses all had perfectly manicured lawns, perfectly tiny bushes, perfectly colorful flowers and expertly placed pavers.
True story: Our former corner-lot neighbors even had a landscaper come EVERY WEEK to pluck dead flowers, arrange the rocks "just-so" and put in new plants when one looked even slightly tired. And that's ignoring their bountiful rose bushes and magnolia trees.
Basically, everyone who walked by their house was like, “WOW! That yard is life-changingly beautiful!” Then they would walk a few feet, see our lawn and shake their heads in disgust. I'm sure they felt sorry that our neighbors had to live next to us. "When bad things happen to good rose bush owners. So sad."
So we did what we do — we called the landscaping company that did the backyard.
Other than wanting a paved path to the driveway, our direction was similar to the backyard: Do whatever you want, and maybe give us some flowers that we can’t kill?
I also wanted a “surprise” element, like a water feature or another weeping spruce or a big hibiscus bush. A conversation starter, you know? But we quickly realized that our landscaping company didn’t really understand the concept of a lawn “conversation starter,” and instead went with clean lines, lots of plants, tiny bushes, etc. Basically, what the Jones's had, which was fine. My plan was to add my own Don Featherstone pink flamingo anyway. Or something similar.
We were actually awake this time when the work was done, in contrast to the last time.
It looks even tinier when it's just dirt.
The front took longer than the back because installing a brick path is no joke. (Or so I'm told.) Plus, I suspect the evergreen bush fought back.
It turned out beautifully, but you probably already heard about it, or saw us in Home and Garden: Tiny Lawns Edition, where they gave a full spread to our hydrangeas.
“Never have you seen beauty like this before — the lawn emerald green, flowers so violet Elizabeth Taylor’s eyes would be jealous."
|No more giant evergreen! No more Tree Island™! No more random pavers! Helloooo usable footpath!|
|The grass looks better now actually, the sod lines are gone. And Ray is very "GET OFFA MY LAWN!" OCD about it.|
It was quite a transformation.
And I got my surprise feature last summer. Ray wasn’t quite so down with the pink flamingo (though I’d argue Featherstone was a true American artist, capturing kitsch and whimsy in ways others can only aspire), so I opted for a gazing ball instead.
It's the perfect throwback counter to the tightly controlled grass and plants. And if you look at it long enough, you can see your lawn future in it. Stop by anytime for your lawn prediction. (Okay, mostly it just looks cool.)
That sums it up for lawn redesign blog posts. I keep thinking I will write about our workout room redo, attic redo, office redo, dining room redo, but usually I forget to take before photos. And if you don't have the satisfaction of before and after shots, what's the point, ya know? Maybe someday.