Poor, Poor Pitiful Me...

When Debbie and I found this house twenty years ago we were looking for something with character. This house had it....lots of windows, lots of space, surrounded by mature oak and elm trees. It also had another feature I personally wanted, a lawn that wasn't just a flat postage stamp of a lot. There isn't a level place on our property except for where the house is sitting. I thought it was wonderful when we first moved in and it's been trying to kill me ever since.

Four years ago I spent a week in the hospital after Debbie found me trying to crawl from the bottom of the backyard up to the patio. I don't remember anything except getting dizzy while mowing. The backyard is especially cruel to me. My front yard is covered in shade all day and I have it pretty much whipped into shape but the back is a dispassionate and unforgiving yard. I try to avoid it as much as possible except for sitting on the patio watching the birds. I start feeling guilty though when Debbie is out tending her flowerbeds. I don't know how we can have a modest sized yard and she still has five acres of flowerbeds back there. During the growing months she is out there all day nearly every day making sure there isn't a rebellious weed or dried leaf messing with the perfectly manicured look. After watching her for a while I will stupidly go out and ask if she needs any help. She always needs help.

I used to be a scavenger for stones and used, or broken brick. This was before I tore up my leg but I had collected a decent amount of stones for use in the yard. I had them all "neatly" stacked under one of the oak trees close to my shed. Debbie decided she needed a new retaining wall in the lowest flowerbed because of some exposed roots on one of the lilac bushes. We've lived here twenty years and I'm still not through building retaining walls. Today while she worked that flowerbed she suggested I move all those stones downhill to where the new wall is needed. We worked out a schedule to make sure neither of us got too hot or dehydrated. I called it the Dr. Pepper schedule because it was 10-2-4....ten minute breaks, two hours working, quit at four in the afternoon. Now keep in mind, Debbie is sitting in a shaded flowerbed pulling weeds and working the soil. I am carrying twenty pound landscaping stones from the top of our yard (hill) down to the lowest part of the yard (hill). You would think going downhill would be easy but N-O-O-O....you have to maintain a slow, steady pace or by the time you reach the steps leading down to the bottom you are going too fast and wind up face first in Debbie's freshly manicured bed. As it turns out, the schedule for me all morning was ten minutes working, two hours resting, repeat twice, then sneak inside for a shower and nap. I'm up from my nap now and sitting in a cool, dark study writing this. Debbie is still out there. Don't bother trying to let her know by text because she left her phone sitting on the patio table....heh, heh, heh. I'm sure she hasn't noticed I'm missing. She gets in a flowerbed 'zone' and doesn't notice anything else. I've had to go out at 5:30 in the afternoon to tell her she needs to stop and come inside. After all, I don't know how to cook dinner. I drove to Fort Worth two days ago to do some shopping. I was gone two hours and she never knew. I love her flowerbeds.

After I broke my leg and hip my sons paid for a mowing crew for us. It lasted two years before I found out how much they were spending and fired the crew. I have good boys. I decided I could mow the lawn myself again and it worked out pretty well. At first, passing cars would slow down so the passengers could watch the cripple holding onto a mower with one hand and a cane in the other. In time I got strong enough to mow without the cane. The backyard still tries to get me occasionally but I laugh in the face of its efforts. I can mow the entire backyard now without a cane. I have to stop every once in a while but I can do it!! As a repercussion one day, the backyard got me back. I was walking along the lower portion of the yard admiring Debbie's largest flowerbed. I stepped onto a loose retaining wall stone and fell sideways off the wall and down into the flowerbed...with a short stop in one of the lilac bushes. I will swear if needed that the lawn laughed at me. I heard it and I'm sticking with my story.

I have suggested we sell our house and buy a townhouse or zero lot line house. I think this is a justifiable suggestion because of our age, my limited physical capacity, and my overall hatred of yard work. Debbie thinks we would get bored. I wouldn't get bored. If she got bored I'm sure our boys would love to have her work their flowerbeds.