Spring has definitely arrived in south Texas. I have the used tissues to prove it. But part of the allergy problem is spurred by everyone and their distant cousin working on their yards. You know, pruning, edging, mowing, mulching. Things I do not do. I don't even have a brown thumb. It's black ... or maybe that color that shows you've voted in an Iraq election. I could kill a house plant in someone else's home.
This springtime ritual has been going on for many years. He visits every possible place that might sell tomato plants. (This after trying hard to grow them from seed for a few years. We don't talk about that.) Then he visits the same stores again ... and again. Needless to say this takes plenty of time and energy. And that means that our prune-the-shrubs-fest never seems to happen. Our shrubbery has gone jungle. In fact, some of the bushes have grown so high that no light comes in the house--the windows are obscured. I'm betting the neighbors think we are actually in the witness protection program.
So I got brave--yes, this can be a sore subject--and was able to try a different approach. It went like this: "I know you want to work on your tomatoes, but the yard really needs work. I had an offer. Can I tell the guy yes?"
Hallelujah it worked! Or maybe I'm giving myself too much credit. I think what worked is the realization that some things are a little much now, that we've worked hard and saved our money for moments like this. We are able to pay for someone else to do that which we hate or is just too much work. It's a good feeling if you allow it to happen. But of course, like me when the people are coming to clean and I must clean before they clean, he had to mow and edge first. But after all the work was done by both my husband and the landscapers, man does our yard look magnificent. Mission accomplished.