Just as there is a bell curve to furnishing your house, for the serious gardener there’s also one for the yard.
At some point in life, your need to acquire gives way to the need to dispose. Noticing that you’ve crossed over the top of that bell curve can come as quite a surprise, or at least, an eye-opener.
When we’re young and just starting out, we need it all: furniture, knick-knacks, linens, utensils, and on and on and on. We take what’s given to us, and we buy within the range of what we can afford.
It does rather come as a surprise, doesn’t it, after so many years of needing to get stuff to fill our house, to realize all of a sudden that our house is, indeed, full. We need to start giving stuff away, not bringing stuff in.
If you like to garden, the yard is like that, multiplied exponentially.
In the beginning years, no matter how much you’ve planted, the yard seems to stretch on, empty. The saplings are small, and the new shrubs are tiny. There’s just so much space in between them all. And it’s a struggle to keep weeds out of nascent flower beds.
Eventually, after what seems to be an eternity of waiting, things fill out.
If you’re not really paying attention, suddenly, out of the blue, branches and vines have exploded everywhere. A once tidy and lovely landscape is out of control and must be reined in with saws, clippers, trimmers, axes, loppers, shears and weed eaters.
The hard part is: You plant everything when you’re young and energetic. By the time everything’s grown large and unruly enough to need to be gotten under control, you’re old and tired.
A little bit last year and a lot this year, I’ve been thinking, “Why?” Why did I plant all that?” My yard wears me out just looking at it.
Every now and then I go outside to pick up sticks and fallen branches, or do some pruning, or some reining in. I can’t tell you how many trips I’ve taken yard debris way out to the edge of the woods, on the other side of the big field, but I can say thank God for the powerful riding mower and cart attachment that does most of that work. I used to walk all the way out there pulling branches and buckets full of debris behind me, but I didn’t mind it so much then.
This past weekend I happened upon the miracle of two teenage boys looking to make some summer cash. For the first time in my life, I paid someone to work in my yard.
I watched in wonder as, in the course of just two sessions, they accomplished what would have taken me all summer and fall to do – if I focused only on yard work at the expense of family time, hobbies and a social life.
I felt that paying teenage boys was my heading down the downward slope of that bell curve of gardening and yardwork. I used to want to make more, more, more work for myself, but this is the year I’ve crossed over to wanting less.
And as I watched how quickly and competently an 18-year-old hustles, I realized my age and didn’t feel so bad for not getting around to everything I had wanted to do.
I was 18 once, and worked like that, even at 28 and 38, and it’s OK to be old and tired now, and pay the kids.
I gave them some spending money, and they’ve given me the gift of free time and relaxation and the ability to enjoy the summer.
