That first summer, we cut and whacked and sprayed and chemically ruined the Earth and pulled and mowed and cried. We barely kept them in line and our whole neighbourhood was affected. They were patient and kind about it - one even cut them with his lawn mower while we were at work one day - but the weeds were infiltrating their backyards too, so they were hoping we could get them under control. We couldn't. Instead, we put up a fence.
Since the spring, The Guy has been chipping away at the yard. I tried to help, but I'm: a) useless, b) weak, and c) injured by my own stupidity. So, he's been hauling 23 yards of rock and 11 yards of soil all by himself with limited help by a few
|View from the north fence|
|View towards the front yard from somewhere in the south west corner.|
Of course, I said that at work and someone thought I was talking about marijuana. No. I'm sure that would be exciting, but I'm getting a LAWN.
|View from the deck of the north west corner|
|Random sock puppet|