We have a huge front yard. It's nestled in the woods and we (in the past) refer to it as a "natural" area, meaning, basically that we don't bother with it. But really, we didn't even look at it and we certainly didn't spend time enjoying it.
Until recently.
We've (my Main Man and Me) been spending a lot of time in some of the lovelier areas of the South. Places where oak leaf hydrangeas (my favorite) are shrubs and things are neat and peaceful-feeling. We were inspired. So we decided to reclaim our front yard from the forest. We lawn-mowed and clipped and dug and hatchet-ed. We sweated and pulled thorns from our fingers and legs. We fought critters and creepy crawlers. Then we stepped back and liked what we saw.
However, a couple of weeks or so later, we began to notice weeds growing in the areas where we had so carefully cleaned! New weeds!
They stood there daringly, taunting us with their swift rise to the surface. They waved at us in the breezes. They had some nerve! Didn't they realize how hard we worked? I mean, you know, that one, brief period in our lives? Those FEW days that we toiled and cleaned and felt so proud? Then we remembered, oh yeah, there's this little thing called maintenance.
Shudder. I don't like that word. I'm no good at it. I want progress by leaps. And I wanna see it. Quickly.
But this morning, I took my trusty lawn mower and went over the fresh and unwanted weeds. I turned a few fallen twigs into mulch. I sweated. Again. I'm dirty. Again. But I did it.
Then I stepped back and looked at the yard and felt the same "aahh" as the first time we cleaned.
Our lives are like bush-hogging my front yard. Letting things go untended feels like the easy thing to do. We say, "I'm just me. This is my natural". And, when we do attempt a bit of tidying, things seem to get messy again so quickly. And we get discouraged. So we too often stop and just let things be. We don't spend too much time looking at that area of our lives and we sure aren't enjoying them.
But, just like us and our yard, when you decide that you've had enough of the "forest". When you decide that you want to be able to step back, look at an area of you or your life and say "aahh, I like it!", grab your lawn mower (you know I don't mean actual lawn mower, right? You get what I'm poetically saying here, right?) and get to it. Grab the shovel and dig those stubborn scrub oaks out from the roots. Put on your toughest gardening gloves and don't be afraid to prick your finger on a thorn. Then, step back and look at what you've done. Go drink a glass of iced tea (you're still with me and this analogy, right?) and enjoy the new view. But...
Don't stop there for good. Watch for the weeds that will spring up in that nice clean spot. Watch for that spider who likes that pretty flower you've planted. And when you see them begin to encroach on what you've cleared, go pull up that weed. Go knock down that spider web. One intruder at a time. And be prepared to do that until your yard is full of only the mature trees and shrubs that you want to be there. Only those of your choosing.
Larry and I will have a lovely yard, probably soon. And you'll have a lovely life, probably soon.
Go grab your shovel and be careful not to step in the dog poop.
Cause, if I can do this, you can, too...
