No, I’m not talking about weed, Mary Jane, Kush, I’m talking about the stuff in my yard–or lack of stuff in my yard. Long ago, I chose not to grow winter grass, just summer grass.
In March, I began the task of overseeding, patching, mulching, and fertilizing. The water sprinklers ran three times of day. Unlike other parts of the country, the Southwest rarely gets free water from Heaven. Yet, the dogs enjoy romping through wet grass and leaving paw prints on my floors.
Over a month has passed and my lawn looks terrible. It’s filled with splotching dead areas which refused to grow–even over the septic tank! I’ve spent copious amounts of money trying to have an attractive, lush lawn to no avail. Then yesterday, I received a water bill from the city. OMG! My water bill had quadrupled! It was almost half a grand! (Water is damn expensive in the desert.)
I’m in a quandary; I don’t know what to do. For sure, I’m reducing the watering schedule, but should I take out all the grass and put in rock or astro turf? Resod? Spray paint the bare patches green? Or maybe, I simply shouldn’t worry about the dismal look of my backyard. No one can see it but me. The dogs certainly don’t mind.
Once upon a time, someone said to me, “That’s just like you, Sue. You always want to take the easy way out.” I beg to differ. I’m usually up for a challenge, but with temperatures over 100, an inviting pool, an inflatable lounge, and a cold beer, I’m no longer going to fret over my dismal attempt to grow grass. Maybe next year.
Years ago, I co-taught Sunday school with another church member, and one Sunday she said, “Sue, I’m tired of my nomadic life on the road.” I knew she traveled several times a month leaving both her husband and children to fend for themselves. But she was making mega bucks. “You know I have a teaching degree I’ve never used.”
Most of us remember when one of our classmates declared that Santa wasn’t real. Some of us ay recall the famous Dear Virginia editorial response published in the New York Sun in 1897. Even though, I’m old, and even though I’m currently living through the most turbulent, hateful times I find deplorable, I still believe in Santa.
Dr. Suze Espouses 