Springtime sprucing

There's a bag of dog poop on my porch.

My son has been on backyard pick-up duty (or doodie duty, I like to call it … because I am a 6^th grade boy at heart) and that’s a good thing. In fact, the whole yard is finally getting some springtime sprucing, even though it’s practically summer (only two days left in the school year!).

Unusually cooler weather has kept our planting efforts at bay the last couple of weeks. Early last week, we covered the newly-relocated hostas because of the threat of frost. Yesterday, it was 90+ degrees.

Spring in Indiana … what ya gonna do?

But I love how pretty our little house looks when spring arrives. Hubs has been busy pulling out dead bushes and replanting, moving existing plants to better locales, scooping load after load of fresh mulch onto tired, faded beds, and generally making our little slice of the world utterly precious. He’s good at this and enjoys it and it shows.

I also love how the days stretch long in the Eastern Time Zone. It’s almost 9 p.m. and I can still hear the rummm of the lawnmower. Hubs loves that it’s our son manning the push mower in the fenced portion of the yard and not him. Hubs is busy shoveling dirt into a wheelbarrow, having started a brick patio project this afternoon. It’s only the first step of the project, but I can already envision us sitting around the fire pit, enjoying a laughter-filled evening with friends in the near future.

It’s going to be a brick patio. Eventually.

Eventually.

Never misses an opportunity to play in the dirt.

For now, though, the sun has eased into a soft teal sky, with a puff of pink fading into orange. A shiny moon beams silver as it rises. There’s just barely enough daylight left to finish the push mowing. Tomorrow, perhaps, hubs or kiddo will finish cutting the rest of our yard with the riding mower.

See those bricks in the background? You know where they’re eventually headed. Eventually.

I’ve watered the little Cleveland pear tree that hubs planted two weeks ago to replace a Bradford pear that was plucked and tossed by a violent storm a few years ago. We left the spot empty all these years for no reason in particular. It just seemed right to plant something now.

I also tended to the lilac bushes hubs relocated last week. They seemed to have recovered from the shock of the move. Our hope is that they will have more room to bloom and flourish away from the overbearing knockout roses. When we planted the roses two years ago, we had no idea they would eventually become petulant toddlers, bullying the tender lilacs into submission. So we separated them like sparring children. Of course, the roses can only blame us for their rude behavior, as we have been remiss in our parenting duties by not pruning them properly. 

She’s pretty, but she’s mean.

There’s a new evergreen to replace the old dead ones and in the distance you can see the lilacs in their pretty new digs and their hulking siblings, the roses, safely beyond. 

Our house sits on a half-acre corner lot and now the lilacs have a pretty new bed that really adds to the curb appeal along the side you can see from the street rounding the corner. The other side of our house? Well, I haven’t had a chance to plant anything there yet this season, so the neighbors get a view of the “bird garden” – birdbath, bird feeder, bird houses - complete with a bird-bombed St. Francis, until some coleus blasts it with color.

Technically Saint Francis wasn’t a martyr, but he’s definitely taking hits in the bird garden.

The veggie garden beds are getting fresh dirt and I will dig into them this weekend to plant tomatoes and bell peppers that we will enjoy as salsa long after the garden has gone into hibernation. 

My planters still sit empty, staring at me with sad, dirty expressions. But soon they will beam with red, yellow and purple smiles, and I’ll happily relax alongside them with a glass of lemonade and a good book, listening to the buzz and hum of the neighborhood. 

Some day they will be glorious.

The sun has set on this lovely Monday and so I am left to dream of my garden for the rest of the night … as soon as I dispose of that bag of dog poop that was abandoned on the porch.