Anthony, our good friend Jake, and my Father-in-law spent a very rainy Saturday morning installing sod in our our backyard so Isobel can have a lovely green place to run around this summer. We ended up texting Jacob first thing in the morning and said something like, “Hey, do you want to come over in an hour and help us lay sod? On a Saturday morning? In the rain?” And he did! He gets the Awesome Friend Award.
In frustrating news, our neighbors have a very expensive little terrier dog that is naturally the bane of our neighborhood’s existence. Constantly barking, always digging holes and getting loose, frequently running in the path of oncoming traffic, and (of course) taking dumps on everyone’s lawn, this dog is just basically an asshole. He’s been in our yard on a near daily-basis this summer, and I’m torn about it. On the one hand, here’s a tiny, helpless, innocent animal. And I could never hurt an animal. I love animals.
But when I see that little dog running around on our new lawn I lose it. My vision goes red, I start imagining some wicked guitar licks, and I can hear myself saying, “You know where you are? You’re in the Jungle, baby! You’re gonna DIE.” And then I fight the urge to punt him over the fence like a football player that… punts stuff. (I don’t really know where to go with that. My knowledge of football starts and ends with punting. And cheese dip.)
Here are some not lovely shots of our lawn for you to compare to the gloriousness that is the top photo of our finished lawn. I call it, “A Tragedy for All Seasons.”
Here we have winter, when green patches flourish among the dirt.
And then we have spring! When the weeds make it look like we have some sort of lawn-ish.
Ah, summer. When the lawn is dead and the wisteria is once again angling for world domination.
And fall. Everything is dead and sharp and painful and the sand is so hot the parts of you that aren’t stabbed are burnt on its molten surface. Wear shoes, or regret leaving the house.
Tired of waiting for our troubled neighbor to get rid of the pond like we arranged, Anthony finally took a sledgehammer to the whole thing and filled it in with rocks and lawn clippings and dirt and now we have a little garden area complete with drainage.
Here’s the lawn area, ready to be tilled. It was sunny the days we prepped the lawn area, but rainy by the time we got it down.
While Anthony toiled away in the sun, I watched Isobel on the weekends while I was home. I was finishing up the school year at this point. She loved climbing on the piles of dirt. She called them “mountains.”
Here’s Isobel’s infamous “cheese face.” She makes this or some other weird approximation when I hold the camera up and say, “cheese.” I love it.
Here she is asking where Jupey is. Most likely he’s hiding from that asshole neighbor dog.