Life just doesn’t get much more exciting than when you find yourself with a mountain of dirt in your driveway. It’s actually Mulch – and no, somebody didn’t just drop it off as a prank. We actually wanted it/ needed it / ordered it as the last step in the great Berg Beautification Project. Our front yard landscaping had become rather overgrown with weeds to the point where we were starting to look like a billboard for ‘The Wild Ones,’ an organization which encourages the natural and rather unmanicured look in landscaping. In our case, it wasn’t ecological concern but rather just plain old neglect which allowed the weeds to gain such an upper hand – and drastic measures were required.
We ended up hiring a recent Carthage grad, Nick Sluss-Rodionov, to provide a combination of brains and brawn. He tore out, dug out, coaxed out a plethora of weeds – turned over the soil – and then yesterday laid down an elaborate combination of newspapers and mulch which, we are told, will do a lot to discourage future weeds from emerging amidst our petunias. What was unfortunate for Nick – and for us as well, athough he was the only one out there all day long – is that the mercury topped out at 92 degrees yesterday, so it was one of those days where doing anything outside felt like a donkey dragging a wagon full of anvils up a hill. But Nick muscled his way through and we did what we could to help- Kathy in the morning and yours truly towards the noon hour and then in the afternoon. (I got to break at 3 to give Jan Mohr a lesson, and this was one time when I made certain that she got all 45 minutes of her lesson and maybe a few minutes more.) By the time I was out in the yard again, Nick was nearly done- leading me to the inescapable conclusion that I only slowed him down- but he probably still appreciated the company. We both waxed philosophically on Global Warming (always a popular topic on a day when it’s topping 90 degrees), American Selfishness, JFK’s assassination, and a whole lot more; there’s nothing more stimulating than engaging in intellectual discussion while digging in the dirt.
What counts, of course, are results- and we have achieved some dramatic improvement . . . enough that if Martha Stewart happens to drive past our house any time soon, the front yard is much less likely to make her puke. (But if she peeks into my car, I hope they have a strong tranquilizer handy, along with some nausea medication as well. )