Sowing, I Reap

Dear Maria,

When I decided to further shrink the footprint of my lawn to shorten my mowing time and thus cut noxious emissions and reduce water usage (self-justification 101), I thought to do so without adding chemical weapons to my lawn-care arsenal. Naturally, as luck would have it, I was provided with a down and not too dirty solution, that of bags and bags of leaves and pine straw and such that my neighbors and friends so very thoughtfully raked up for me.

Like a carpet bomber, I saturated two framed target areas out front with more than a 100 large bags of other people’s yard litter (OPYL in the literature, I believe). And, voila! My grass, DOA. Of course, for two years, this eyesore of decaying matter took me out of the running for yard of the—well any length of time.

Oh, to be sure it was an ugly mess to look at, but if they—they—could only see my backyard. That transformation would redeem me quickly enough. My garden, growing and blooming and offering respite from the world at large. Ah, bravo!

Then, the shortcomings of my shortcut were brought to light: First, the oak. Oaks coming out of the ground, not by the dozens but by the hundreds. Then, weeds. By the hundreds. Now, instead of tearing out everything coming up, I opted to plant trees and shrubs, and for my penance, I would drag out my little gardening bench, kneel, and pull up the offending little bomblets by hand. I did so. Twice this spring. Now, what do I have? Hundreds of oaks and weeds coming up. Probably the most successful crops of anything that I have ever planted.

So each day, I receive a lesson. Every time through my front door, I am reminded of my bad decision-making, and every time through my back door, I am reminded there is hope for me yet. Penance and redemption, both under the same canopy of sky.

All my best, as always, srk