This is my newspaper column for this weekend. If it looks familiar, that’s because I mashed up a couple of recent blog posts.
Dirty dishes are in the sink.
The kitchen floor needs to be mopped.
The beds need to be made.
The carpets need to be vacuumed.
The bathrooms need to be scrubbed and the dirty laundry is piling up.
Just about the only thing that doesn’t need immediate attention at my house this weekend is the yard. The long winter has seen to that.
But while the grass won’t need to be cut for a few weeks yet, I have high hopes for a lush lawn this summer. That’s because I actually seeded our yard a couple of weeks ago.
That may not seem particularly remarkable, but I have a brown thumb. Our yard has been in terrible shape for years.
I’ve tried everything to get grass to grow among the weeds I end up mowing. And, when I say I’ve tried everything, I mean EVERYTHING!
Well, everything except spreading seed before a snowfall.
In an effort to spare my wife the ignominy of having the worst lawn in the neighborhood (again), I took a shot in the dark. I decided to see if what I’ve read on the Internet is right about snow and grass. I got home from work one afternoon, raked the yard and seeded it just before it was supposed to snow.
I like the idea of using snow to my advantage. For one thing, a fresh snowfall hides the seed from hungry birds. Then when it melts, it’s supposed to encourage the seeds to snuggle into the ground, where, if the Internet is right, they will germinate and make my wife happy.
That’s the idea, anyway.
The thing is, I have no idea if it will work.
Call it an act desperation on my part, but it’s a trick some people swear by.
Others, not so much. One friend told me not to waste my time. Another flatly said the seed would wash away.
Only time will tell.
With my luck, though, I just wasted a $100 dollar bag of seed.
While I’m waiting to find out whether I’ll be mowing weeds or grass this summer, I’ve still got plenty of chores to do around the house.
My wife left for the beach this week. She goes each year at around this time with a group of close friends.
Usually, she leaves the house spotless before hitting the road. It’s her way of limiting the damage the kids and I do while she’s gone.
This time, however, she left me to wallow in my own mess.
The dirty dishes I promised to do the night before she ventured off are still in the sink. And now the kids are running out of clean clothes to wear and our dog Rodney keeps tracking in mud from the back yard. Plus, the beds need to be made and the bathrooms need a good scrubbing.
After more than 20 years together, either I’m rubbing off on her or this is some kind of test.
And if it’s a test, I’m more likely to get grass to grow than to pass it.