I spent a few hours today working in the garden: assembling one of my raised beds, filling it, raking and tilling, and planting some seedlings (snowpeas and green beans, in case you were wondering). I still have another bed to assemble and fill, and more seedlings (cukes and beets, in case you were still wondering) to plant, as well as fixing the fence and working the compost. I'll tell ya, having a hobby veggie garden really makes you respect the people who do it for a living. I'm already sore and tired, and I haven't even started on the landscaping that needs to be done.
I still have to clean up the debris left from the fall and winter, including the hojillion acorns that are now dutifully sprouting into little trees all over the entire yard. And trim out the garden areas, and mulch them. And the shrubs! The previous owners seemed to have planted everything just wherever the hell--there's no symmetry or pattern, and it totally seems like they just planted things wherever they happened to plunk down the pot, without any regard for the mature size of the plant or how things would look as a whole. This house was on the market for a long time, and I believe the "landscaping" was very new and a last-ditch effort for some curb appeal. And half-assed, can't forget that. It just doesn't seem like a lot of thought went into it, and now I get to fix it. As well as the giant bare swath of now-weed-infested earth left when Jeff trimmed back/ripped out most of the rampant forsythia. And the lawn that's 70% moss and violets.
Oy, there's just so much landscaping, hardscaping, and fixing--does one ever actually get to enjoy one's house?
::headdesk::
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