Birds are chirping, daffodils are blooming and the flowering trees are budding.
Rain and warmer temperatures are sweeping away the memory of snow and turning the grays and browns of winter to a deep and luxuriant green.
The seasonal circle is turning.
The promise of Spring is here.
Everything is going through its annual renewal. Everything, that is, except my yard … unless you count the weeds.
I don’t know why they are so attracted to me, but weeds cheerfully follow me around and plant themselves everywhere I live. It’s as if they know deep down in their noxious roots that they are safe with me.
They’ve somehow figured out — without ever bothering to ask me — that it’s okay to throw a party in my yard and invite their buddies from miles around. They seem to think that I won’t try to eradicate them.
Actually, my long-suffering wife will hang her head and tell you with some exasperation that I’m incapable of harming them. My neighbors would probably agree.
My efforts to kill weeds and grow grass is becoming an annual joke in my neighborhood.
Last spring, when my neighbor’s in-laws were visiting and asked what I was up to, the response was “he’s probably over there trying to grow grass.”
Even my 9-year-old daughter is questioning whether I have what it takes to make grass sprout. Just the other morning at the bus stop in front of our house, she took in the condition of our yard and asked, “Dad, are you going to try to grow grass this year?”
Such is my reputation. My daughter doesn’t even have confidence in me.
It’s not like I don’t try. I bought a giant bag of grass seed last fall, broke out my spreader and over-seeded my lawn (for lack of a better word, I’ll use lawn from here on out). I even treated my lawn with lime to iron out its ph balance and create optimal soil conditions for grass.
I’ve aerated my lawn. I’ve thatched my lawn. I added more grass seed this spring and I’ve got the weed n’ feed ready to go. Now, I’m waiting to see what happens.
If history is any guide my efforts won’t bear fruit and I’ll continue to be a source of seasonal humor for my neighbors.
But the arrival of Spring is a time for optimism, right? All things are supposed to be within reach, even the unlikely possibility that I can successfully grow grass.
I have a feeling this is going to be my year, though — the year I finally win the annual battle to make my yard look at least as inviting as my neighbor’s.
I’m so optimistic because, at long last, the playing field is level. If you don’t believe me take a look around. The ravages of last summer’s drought are still visible everywhere.
Once perfectly manicured lawns have huge, expanses of dead, brown grass. And, thankfully, it hasn’t escaped my notice that the weeds have branched out. My yard is no longer the only sanctuary open to them.
I know I shouldn’t take pleasure in the misfortune of others, but I’m secretly pleased that, at least for now, everyone else’s lawn looks just like mine usually does.