uring the summer, our
yard is a joyous calliope
of color and texture. It
would be an exaggeration to say that I am a planner when it comes to the landscaping around our home. It’s much more accurate to say I’m an impulse shopper. As the temperature finally rises in Chicago, my wild assortment of foliage comes into its disorderly splendor.
Lush pink peonies sag in billowing blooms over their frames below overgrown lilac bushes weighed down with blooms. The last of the tulips gives way to daffodils. Roses in the backyard explode in red flowers above black-eyed Susans, and waving wisps of fennel fronds are yet to bloom in the butterfly garden.
In the middle of this chaotic bounty, our backyard grass is a patchy eyesore. Part of this is willful neglect: I’m not much of a ‘yard’ person, preferring to spend time with my crazy flowering beauties instead and allowing grass to, well, do whatever it will do. And what it does is suffer.
D
‘yard’ person, preferring to spend time with my crazy flowering beauties instead and allowing grass to, well, do whatever it will do. And what it does is suffer.
This sad lawn is rendered even more of an eyesore due to dueling sports being practiced: one side is framed by a net to catch baseballs as they are smashed off a tee, the other side features a soccer goal, ready for action. The center section of what was once grass, and is now dirt, in front of each practice area is an ongoing project worthy of Sisyphus. From time to time, each summer, I will request a bag of grass seed from my husband’s DIY trips to the hardware store, and I’ll dutifully rake and seed and water those patches for weeks in a fruitless attempt at growing a few fill-in blades of grass
Honestly, we didn’t buy a home to have a perfect yard; we bought it to have an imperfect yard filled with kids playing, but is it wrong to want a little bit of grass, too? Can’t a homeowner have it all? Don’t answer that.
This year, I tried to grow some grass again, with the same lack of results, and the patch suffered as usual. And then, in mid-June, my older son broke his collarbone in a soccer tournament. The diagnosis: No soccer this summer, for weeks and weeks and seemingly endless weeks.
lawn is rendered even more of an eyesore due to dueling sports being practiced: one side is framed by a net to catch baseballs as they are smashed off a tee, the other side features a soccer goal, ready for action. The center section of what was once grass, and is now dirt, in front of each practice area is an ongoing project worthy of Sisyphus. From time to time, each summer, I will request a bag of grass seed from my husband’s DIY trips to the hardware store, and I’ll dutifully rake and seed and water those patches for weeks in a fruitless attempt at growing a few fill-in blades of grass.
Honestly, we didn’t buy a home to have a perfect yard; we bought it to have an imperfect yard filled with kids playing, but is it wrong to want a little bit of grass, too? Can’t a homeowner have it all? Don’t answer that.
This year, I tried to grow some grass again, with the same lack of results, and the patch suffered as usual. And then, in mid-June, my older son broke his collarbone in a soccer tournament. The diagnosis: No soccer this summer, for weeks and weeks and seemingly endless weeks.
This sad lawn is rendered even more of an eyesore due to dueling sports being practiced: one side is framed by a net to catch baseballs as they are smashed off a tee, the other side features a soccer goal, ready for action. The center section of what was once grass, and is now dirt, in front of each practice area is an ongoing project worthy of Sisyphus. From time to time, each summer, I will request a bag of grass seed from my husband’s DIY trips to the hardware store, and I’ll dutifully rake and seed and water those patches for weeks in a fruitless attempt at growing a few fill-in blades of grass.
Honestly, we didn’t buy a home to have a perfect yard; we bought it to have an imperfect yard filled with kids playing, but is it wrong to want a little bit of grass, too? Can’t a homeowner have it all? Don’t answer that
This year, I tried to grow some grass again, with the same lack of results, and the patch suffered as usual. And then, in mid-June, my older son broke his collarbone in a soccer tournament. The diagnosis: No soccer this summer, for weeks and weeks and seemingly endless weeks.
Of Soccer Balls
and Sacred Ground
BY HEATHER REID