Yard Care
Last year I let my little Tif yard get away from me. It’s really the only bit of manicured grass I have. It was planted at the behest of my late wife. It’s a small yard in the back, off to the side by the old vegetable garden which now houses a Mexican Plum, two turks caps, and some Gregg’s Mist Flower. Anyway, a combination of dry days and me not giving a damn spelled doom for most of the grass, and I thought, fine.
But then this year rolled around, and the consistent little rains brought what remained of the grass back to life. And that renewed my interest in the little yard. It still looks bad, but better than it did. So, I’ve been mowing with the push mower, and the other day I sprinkled peat moss on the portion of the yard where the soil needs improving, and I’ll do it again. As for the water, I think I can keep it going during the hot dry days of summer, with my rainwater collection.
This appears to be another tribute to my improving mental attitude, which I thought was pretty good last year until this year rolled around. These days, I find myself really absorbed with my yard and the plants within its confines. I walk the grounds. I’ve replaced the dead and dying. I care. And those two words sum up mental health and the travails of grief. First, I began caring about myself, then I cared about my house, now I care about the yard. I’ll call it the cone of care. It’s expanding. It feels good. And it rained this morning, again. It sure feels like a sign.