A couple of weeks ago we had a new septic field put in our front yard. Why the front and not the back yard like 99% of the world? You'll have to ask the original homeowner why they situated our lot the way they did, but my guess is that they wanted to place the house farther back on the lot away from the road. Whatever, the result of having the work done is that a little more than half of the front yard is dirt which means for the first time in my life I'm trying to grow a lawn from scratch.
Celeste and I talked about getting a landscaper to put in sod, but after plunking down a chunk of change on the septic system we decided it would be financially prudent to try and seed and grow the grass ourselves. Easier said than done.
First we needed to get the ground prepared and let's just say it was more than one man and his three unhappy teenagers to do with a few rakes, at least if you wanted it done in less time than it took to build the Great Wall. So we called Zeke Mock and asked him to come over with his tractor and get the ground nicely even and raked for us. He had to wait for the ground to dry after last weeks rains so that the tractor wouldn't damage our brand new septic lines so he showed up last last week and did his thing.
Of course we needed grass seed. The weekend before last Celeste picked up a couple of bags of
Scott's Turf Builder Heat Tolerant Blue Mix at Lowe's and a seed spreader to go with them so that meant that Saturday morning I was up and rarin' to go in my role as Jon-ny Lawnseed. Spreading the seed took about 20 minutes, which was great, but upon reading the instructions I realized that once the seed was down I was going to have to water the dirt twice a day. What a pain in the butt!
To understand how much I dislike yard tending you need only know this: I actually like the fact that we have lots of weeds in our yard because if I set my mower at its lowest setting you can't really distinguish the weeds from the grass unless you're standing on it and the lawn stays green pretty much year round and during the most sever droughts. Bonus! So the idea that I have to actually water my dirt just seems, well, sucky.
Oh well, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. Celeste had also purchased a sprinkler, the kind that sends about ten streams of water in a nice gentle arc (the kind that kids jump through on hot summer days), but after I hooked it up and it did its thing for about five minutes it decided that it wouldn't rotate and would just spray in one direction. Damnit! So I put a sprayer on the hose and started spraying our massive dirt patch by hand. Unfortunately I didn't plan well and got the hose all kinked up and I kind of sprayed myself into a corner which means I had to walk through mud to get everything straightened out. By the time I was done my shoes weighed approximately 52 pounds each, and I could swear there were sprouts coming out of the toes.
It gets better. Yesterday I woke up early so I could water the dirt before church. Seems kind of Biblical, no? After fighting the hose again I went inside to take a shower and when I got out I noticed that it was raining quite nicely. Most people would have checked the weather before going out to water their lawn, or maybe even looked up while outside, but not me. In my defense I hadn't had coffee yet so I really was semi-comatose. But still.
And of course this morning I was out there once again at 6:30, bed-head and all. Neighbors politely honked as they departed for work or taking their kids to school, but I was inclined to reply with a one finger salute because watering dirt at 6:30 is not my cup of tea. I refrained and just gave 'em the "neighbor nod" but I was sorely tempted to take out my dirt rage on them.
Thankfully this isn't supposed to last forever. The seed bag instructed me to water twice a day for a week or until I see my first sprouts, and then I can scale back to once a day. I'm hoping that our septic field will contribute lots of nutrients so that the process is expedited, but I'm not banking on it. In the mean time if you're driving through Lewisville and you see a tall, disheveled, mud splattered man you'll know you've found me.
Befuddled 