I, by no means, am any kind of gardener.
In fact (keep your giggles to yourself, please and thanks), I mowed a lawn for the first time in my life earlier this month. To be fair, I’m allergic to (everything in the universe, no joke) cut grass, which is also an asthma trigger for me. I’ve been fortunate enough to have a staff of pals, and mainly my poor mother, to help me mow.
This year, I decided to take charge. Well, I had to. My mommy was in a car accident and broke her sternum. She’s the pillar of all things strong, so she’s masterfully and miraculously fine, she just can’t pick up or push heavy things. She definitely shouldn’t be mowing her grown-ass daughter’s lawn. In my partial defense, she claimed to love doing it. I don’t know if she was saying that for my sake, but she is a fan of physical challenges of all sorts. She’s a rower for an outrigger canoe club, and the woman could bench press me, a dainty 6-foot-1 lassie, in a swift matter of seconds.
But there’s no way I was going to let her mow my lawn. So I revved that bad boy up, mowed my back yard into a lovely oasis, found myself actually enjoying the job, then came back into the house with hives.
Remember, I’m allergic to everything, so hives aren’t new to me. After swallowing a cocktail of Zyrtec, Benadryl and water by the gallon, I was fine three days later. (Itch scars to prove it.)
I was so proud of myself that two weeks later, I decided to tackle the front yard. I went out there with determination. I first cleaned up a decade’s worth of dead brush, did some yard maintenance (if I’m doing this, I’m doing this), then fired up that beast again.
I sweeped over the back yard again because these dandelions will be the death of me. It was done and it looked fabulous. I was so proud of myself I planned to have an adult beverage out there after I finished the front yard so I could admire my work.
The front is always a disaster: high waist-high weeds, dead stalks from sunflowers and wildflowers, pieces of bark, felled branches, a couple of Monster energy drinks, an empty fifth of Jim Beam, a rotten burrito, three Steel Reserve cans and a bottle of vodka. (I live on a busy street so my yard often doubles as the boulevard’s trash can.)
I did it. The mower died halfway through, I had an asthma attack or two, my legs were jelly and I got two nasty blisters on my palms that broke open. (I guess we wear gloves when we mow? Learning on the job.) I showered, grabbed an adult seltzer, sat on the couch and fell asleep before I could open it.
But now I can plant my garden with a clean slate.
Usually, when I plant my garden, I dive into way too much research, to the point where it becomes too late in the season to plant anything.
Is it too much to ask for a fire-proof, tall plant that blooms colorful flowers throughout the whole summer, that’s low-maintenance, non-invasive, Colorado soil-tolerant, drought-tolerant, likes shade and sun, and comes back every year without me doing much?
I guess so.
Then I remembered the wealth of information I get from one of our company’s columnists, the Broomfield Enterprise’s Kelley Rawlsky, who pens “People and Plants” every week. (Find it at broomfieldenterprise.com every Sunday.) She very often validates what I wanted to do with my garden, as she speaks from the perspective of a local pro, who knows Colorado gardening back to front.
I thought a butterfly bush would be a wonderful addition, until I started reading about how invasive the perennial shrub can be. Then I remembered Miss Rawlsky introduced me to Miss Molly, the non-invasive variety of this gorgeous pollinator. So I have one on its way to my home.
Since the front yard is Denver’s Dumpster, that’s where I usually toss handfuls of wildflower seeds. I have a chunk of Cosmos that come back every year and those ladies are my faves. They reach to nearly 6 feet and pop in various colors of pink, purple, yellow and white. Then my lovely momma started tossing sunflowers out there, too, so I’ll be waiting patiently to see if any of my wild friends return.
My backyard is a bird-chirping oasis with lush green grass. My vibrant purple salvia has been returning and slowly spreading since we planted it a decade ago. I also tossed some lilies of various sorts in planters in the back (straight from the clearance rack for $2 each. *squeals* TBD if I can nurse them back to 100 percent.)
My garden and yard is looking glorious for the first time in years. I fell into a pandemic hole for some time, but I’m feeling positive this summer. I’m excited to prune and nurse my garden into Queen of Hearts-style royalty.
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