jwjourney.com

If my front yard could speak, it would be saying, “Mulch me, PA-leeze!” For one, it is 20 degrees outside and if I were a plant I’d be dead by now. The poor foliage is probably screaming for some cover. Secondly, we haven’t mulched in months and the old pine straw, what’s left of it, is gray and flat and pathetic. Weeds, that somehow survive these frigid temps, are actually poking up through the gray pine straw. If the beds weren’t positioned next to the street it wouldn’t be much of an issue. But everyone who drives by can see that we’re not keeping up our yard. I fear we’re going to become one of “those” kind of neighbors.

This is further emphasized by the landscape guys who keep coming to my house in droves, pasting their business cards and fliers on my mailbox (peeling off the black paint, which annoys me to no end) and knocking on my door asking if they could, please, straw our beds. I tell them no. It’s my husband’s job, which he’s happy to do, except he has been sick since Christmas day. Some freaky chest congestion-wheezing-fatigue viral thing. And to make matters worse, his two-pack-a-day-style coughing has caused a severe muscle pull in his side so now he can barely move.

I think I’m going to break down and let the next pine straw guy do the job. I think my entire street and everyone who drives by the house will be thankful.... But probably not as thankful as those freezing plants!