Landscaping: How a Nasty Note and some Dog Poop Became a Wall

In every marriage, you have to determine one another's sensitivity toward public image. How long does it take to get ready enough to feel comfortable leaving the house? How candid are you with new people? Who gets how much of your time off - friends or spouse?

Here's a scenario from our life:

Upon moving into our 1922 home, we focused much of our repair/renovation energy on the interior. As previously blogged, the look and feel could be captured in a smell... formaldehyde, old cosmetics, and mildew. Limited means forced us to neglect our grass in the front yard.

A quick word on grass. Grass is personal. If my grass is perfectly tailored, an even shade of blue-green, cut to a perfect 3" high, and sprawls out as far as the neighbors' eyes can see, then that means I care about my neighbors' feelings. That I value their opinion, the work they've invested in their grass, the hours they've spent fertlizing and mowing said grass, or going to work so they could pay someone else to nurture and care for their grass. If my grass is patchy, yellow, and long, that means I hate your guts and you suck.

Or so it would seem, based on the note we received after letting our grass get too patchy and yellow-green.

The note read:

"To Whom It May Concern,

I need to be repaired. I am ugly and messy and want to be pretty like all the other yards. Please fix me.

Sincerely,
Your Grass"

A second note, in the same handwriting sent on the same day:

"Maybe it's time to try a different grass seed. Just plant, water, and cut. Thank you."

Here's where the marital lesson comes in.

My reaction:

F*@& 'em. If they want to make my grass a personal offense to them, fine. If I fix it, the terrorists win.

My husband's reaction:

We aren't upholding our neightborly duties, not keeping up with everybody else, and someone doesn't approve. Let's scramble to find $2500 to do some really nice landscaping

Then another gift was left for us, but it wasn't a note in our mail slot.

Someone walking their dog bagged the poop, tied it, walked up onto our sloping lawn, identified the worst patch, and gently placed the poop on our lawn.

You can imagine how our reactions were magnified by this neighborly gesture. Several heated but educational negotiations and poof!

We have a wall.

Admittedly, it would have cost between $5,000 - $10,000 if we hadn't found this amazing guy named Pat Rocks (yes, the actual name of the guy who installed our rocks was Pat Rocks). The $2500 included some beautiful stone from Maryland that had lots of warm colors to play off of they yellow brick in the house. I learned a lot, but don't have the muscle to have done what he did.

This is where I get frusrated. I know how to do so much, but I only have these wimpy girl biceps to do it with. When my designer/contractor career takes off someday, I might consider Steroids to remedy this problem. That or subcontract muscle.

I did, however, have enough muscle to do all the planting, scoring Fall clearances on perennials at Lowe's, Home Depot, and the like.

Plant list:

Hybrid Tea Roses
Anise Hyssop
Sorbet Peonies
Bell Flower (mislabeled - thought it was mockorange, which has a phenominal fragrance)
Lemon Thyme
Ajuga
Hostas
Pink Daffodils
Pink Angelique Tulips
Veronica Speedwell
Burberry (or barberry? Whichone is the fashion label?)
Pink Azalea
Hydrangea
Silver Lace Vine
Toad Lillies
Pig Squeek
Lobelia
Cinnamon Fern
Coleus
Iris
Snow in Summer
FLowering Cherry Bush


And a million other little guys I can't remember.

I hired babysitters to watch Hazel so I could watch Pat. I learned a ton about installing a retaining wall, and Pat and I worked together to arrange them in an aesthetically pleasing manner.

Retaining wall info to come...

While I love my garden, and love watching Hazel's eyes light up when a new flower has bloomed for her to pick, I still harbor resentment that somewhere, perhaps down the block, there is someone with a lot of time on her hands...snickering.

The terrorists won and I got a garden. Call it a draw?