These days of spring blossom on us like early flowers. One day the weather is iffy, and deciding how to dress for a daily walk becomes a game of hanger roulette. Alexa informs me that it's sixty degrees outside. However, I know for a fact, she's called the airport for that information. That report will not account for the east wind off of Lake Michigan, bringing colder temperatures to my neighborhood. This prompts me to wear a hoodie that is a little more substantial than a sweater I might stick into my golf bag for a chilly morning round.
Once I launch my daily walk out of the east-facing lower back exit from my building, I realize that the sun is warm and will help keep me warm even in the cooler by the lake air. My head tells me to go back upstairs and change my outerwear. But I'm like a train on the track; there is only one way to go, and I'm moving forward. The Eastbound trip down Juneau Ave is nose into the breeze until I cross Lake Drive, and the tree line from the top of the ridge in Juneau Park breaks up the wind and the warm sun rules without challenge for the moment.
After my trudge through Juneau Park, I turn down State St. I'm now going to be downwind or in the lee of the apartment buildings. It's always amazed me that when you walk downwind unless it's blowing a gale, you really can't feel it. I manage the trip from Lake Drive to Marshall. As I reach the intersection and begin my tack north to Marshall, I spot something in the median strip between the curb and the sidewalk.
In one sense, it's one of those signs of spring the songs are written about. From another viewpoint, it's arrival is one of the reasons we rethink our appreciation of Fall and Winter. For if fall brings leaves to be racked and winter brings snow to be shoveled, then spring brings dandelions.
Yes, it makes no difference if you kill them with chemicals, head them or harvest them by hand, you can be sure that someone in the neighborhood will leave there's to grow, die, and seed the area thoroughly for next year.
I remember standing in my yard that looked like I was actually cultivating the blond bastards. In my hand, I'm holding an implement the allows me to insert the tongue of my digger at the base of the plant and with a thrust decapitate the plant from its root.
On my hands and knees, I crawl across my land like an ox pulling a plow back and forth, back and forth, and back again. Even though I'm connected to an iPod that's blaring Hotel California in my ears, my mind wanders to other places.
Sometimes my place is a condo where I can look at the lawn and not have to tend it. Other times I'm wondering what would happen if I just had a natural yard. This means I decide to let nature rule my landscape. Whatever the wind blows, I allow to grow.
In other daydreams, I have entertained ideas such as lot line to lot line gravel with the occasional bush or flower planted. Since I'm sure of the adverse reactions of my neighbors to both of these concepts, it makes me wonder about the consequence. I have to choose one or the other.
Still in flashback mode, it's Tuesday, and, fortunately, I have vacation time coming since I started crawling my lawn harvesting dandelions on Saturday morning. Now that I'm finished, my lawn is golf course green. Yeah, some of it is crabgrass, but damn it crabgrass is green. And to be clear, yes, I have finished the harvest, but two fifty-gallon drums of the evil weed have to be taken to the city depository. They don't pick up yard waste.
But on the bright side, the time I've taken wearing out my already bad knees has given me time to consider my options. I made a decision. Given the expense of ripping up my lawn, putting down tar paper, and the gravel, I'm going to let my yard go natural. My research told me that anything that grows in an open space, over time, will kill both the dandelions and the crabgrass.
Once I launch my daily walk out of the east-facing lower back exit from my building, I realize that the sun is warm and will help keep me warm even in the cooler by the lake air. My head tells me to go back upstairs and change my outerwear. But I'm like a train on the track; there is only one way to go, and I'm moving forward. The Eastbound trip down Juneau Ave is nose into the breeze until I cross Lake Drive, and the tree line from the top of the ridge in Juneau Park breaks up the wind and the warm sun rules without challenge for the moment.
After my trudge through Juneau Park, I turn down State St. I'm now going to be downwind or in the lee of the apartment buildings. It's always amazed me that when you walk downwind unless it's blowing a gale, you really can't feel it. I manage the trip from Lake Drive to Marshall. As I reach the intersection and begin my tack north to Marshall, I spot something in the median strip between the curb and the sidewalk.
In one sense, it's one of those signs of spring the songs are written about. From another viewpoint, it's arrival is one of the reasons we rethink our appreciation of Fall and Winter. For if fall brings leaves to be racked and winter brings snow to be shoveled, then spring brings dandelions.
Yes, it makes no difference if you kill them with chemicals, head them or harvest them by hand, you can be sure that someone in the neighborhood will leave there's to grow, die, and seed the area thoroughly for next year.
I remember standing in my yard that looked like I was actually cultivating the blond bastards. In my hand, I'm holding an implement the allows me to insert the tongue of my digger at the base of the plant and with a thrust decapitate the plant from its root.
On my hands and knees, I crawl across my land like an ox pulling a plow back and forth, back and forth, and back again. Even though I'm connected to an iPod that's blaring Hotel California in my ears, my mind wanders to other places.
Sometimes my place is a condo where I can look at the lawn and not have to tend it. Other times I'm wondering what would happen if I just had a natural yard. This means I decide to let nature rule my landscape. Whatever the wind blows, I allow to grow.
In other daydreams, I have entertained ideas such as lot line to lot line gravel with the occasional bush or flower planted. Since I'm sure of the adverse reactions of my neighbors to both of these concepts, it makes me wonder about the consequence. I have to choose one or the other.
Still in flashback mode, it's Tuesday, and, fortunately, I have vacation time coming since I started crawling my lawn harvesting dandelions on Saturday morning. Now that I'm finished, my lawn is golf course green. Yeah, some of it is crabgrass, but damn it crabgrass is green. And to be clear, yes, I have finished the harvest, but two fifty-gallon drums of the evil weed have to be taken to the city depository. They don't pick up yard waste.
But on the bright side, the time I've taken wearing out my already bad knees has given me time to consider my options. I made a decision. Given the expense of ripping up my lawn, putting down tar paper, and the gravel, I'm going to let my yard go natural. My research told me that anything that grows in an open space, over time, will kill both the dandelions and the crabgrass.
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