Our back yard!
March 30th, 2016
Apparently, spring is upon us.
Despite what the weather clowns told us around ten days ago, this isn't necessarily a finalized thing, of course. After all, the calendar is a rather arbitrary thing, and despite the presence of general trends due to earth's rotation, position around and distance from the sun, tilt in relation to its plane of orbit, and blah blah blah, reality doesn't always play ball.
But if yesterday was any indication, we're more or less there. I was unaware of outside conditions until I fled from work at precisely 2:36 PM, at which point I realized that I didn't need a jacket. On top of that, I was able to drive most of the way home from work, about a half hour commute, with my windows down. Not bad when you're moving at (well, a bit over) seventy miles per hour!
Upon arriving home, I went to take the trash cans around to the curb, even though we hardly generate any trash each week. I wouldn't have bothered this week, but we pay for the trash service, so we may as well use it, and have them clean the can out regularly. Pondering this as I made my way into our back yard, since we have one now, I saw the other hint that spring was nigh.
It's amazing that I hadn't noticed it, yet, but the yard had ceased looking like an assemblage of dead, dying, or hibernating vegetation. No, the joint is all green, save for a few spots, each of which have a perfectly rational explanation for their lack of green-ness. One such explanation is the void left by the former tenants' fire pit, a loose, lumpy circle of dirt that I must eventually rehabilitate.
The master plan, such as it is, is to purchase a fire pit kit from one of our area superultramega housing supply stores. There's Home Despot ™ or My Nards ®, or something else I'm sure, but the trick is finding someone who will sell yard supplies to us. We tried to buy the kit last year, but by September the stores hereabouts had already buried their yard stuff in lieu of xxx-mas garbage.
This is massively vexing. Just because it's fall doesn't mean you bury all your lawn products for the year. Especially around here, in western Ohio, because the summers have been running particularly long these last few years. I would've cheerfully figured out how to install the darn thing last year, so it would've been ready to burn stuff come April or so, but no.
We had a similar problem when trying to purchase a contraption for our hose. We bought a hose because, when we first moved into the house, the garage smelled of dog. And by 'smelled' I mean 'radiated the odor of', and needed cleaning. I guess they locked the beast in there instead of, you know, putting it out in the yard? It had ruined the carpets, so I guess I can ultimately see why.
Anyway! We had found the perfect contraption for this purpose, but I was a fool and told Brenda we could wait a bit before buying it, in order to save a few bucks. The process of moving had incurred a number of unpleasant and abnormal expenses, after all, so that seemed like the prudent thing to do. But no, by the time we went looking for this wonderful contraption anew, the darn thing was gone.
The Home Despot said that they had several in stock, but couldn't determine where they should be. And once they found out where the things should be kept, they were nowhere to be found. So we ultimately picked up a storage tub to put the hose in until we could sort out the hose caddy deal, which means we'll have an extra one of those floating around once this item is relocated in '16.
And this, this is why I increasingly buy things online: I tire of retailers thinking they know what I need better than I. I'm pretty sure that I don't need xxx-mas garbage before December, and I'm definitely sure if it's still eighty degrees out, I should be able to purchase yard stuff. But, now that it's spring, perhaps I can finally resolve some of these odd issues. Once I have the cash handy, anyway.
And then? Then, we can enjoy our back yard - until the mosquitos come to town. As it so happens, I am delicious. Keep that in mind if you decide to attempt cannibalism. No, seriously. I have an irresistible flavor. Mosquitos love the taste of Denny, and thus, feast upon me at every opportunity. And being near the edge of the wilderness, we're bound to have many, many mosquitos.
A plethora of mosquitos, even. This means that I'll either have to a) wear a few gallons of bug repellant whenever we go outside, or b) wear heavy clothes whenever we go out for a walk / chill in the back yard / indulge in a bike ride / deign to leave the house for more than five seconds between now and November. Neither option sounds good, but both are preferable to being fed on by critters.