Summer is officially here. Yards are turning to concrete. Actually, one of them really was concrete. The order came from out of town and the sender admitted that she had never been there. We arrived with a pack of dinosaurs and found this. Not even a plant pot. We took the dinos home again and I emailed the bad news. Figured it was just too rude to call at 3:30 on a Sunday morning. I did call later to make sure she knew it was a non-surprise.
In other yards we're working with the effects of the baking summer sunshine. When it is nearly impossible to drive a sharpened flamingo stake into the hard packed dirt, poking it into the heart of a weed will usually do the trick. Fortunately no matter how dry a yard gets, there will always be weeds. They're not always distributed in the most aesthetically pleasing configuration, but flockers have to work with what we're given. Last time we were in this yard it was a riot of color, full of nasturtiums with leaves the size of dinner plates. Now it's weeds, bats and buzzards.
After concrete (the real stuff) and concrete of the dirt variety, it was nice to find grass. This wasn't one of those perfect lawns, but it was a whole lot better than anything else we had encountered that morning. And Grandma was so cute when we picked it up. She appeared at the door, cloud of white hair and a great big smile, and thanked us repeatedly. I bet the granddaughter who arranged this is up for a better deal in the will.
Summer is officially here. Yards are turning to concrete. Actually, one of them really was concrete. The order came from out of town and the sender admitted that she had never been there. We arrived with a pack of dinosaurs and found this. Not even a plant pot. We took the dinos home again and I emailed the bad news. Figured it was just too rude to call at 3:30 on a Sunday morning. I did call later to make sure she knew it was a non-surprise. 
In other yards we're working with the effects of the baking summer sunshine. When it is nearly impossible to drive a sharpened flamingo stake into the hard packed dirt, poking it into the heart of a weed will usually do the trick. Fortunately no matter how dry a yard gets, there will always be weeds. They're not always distributed in the most aesthetically pleasing configuration, but flockers have to work with what we're given. Last time we were in this yard it was a riot of color, full of nasturtiums with leaves the size of dinner plates. Now it's weeds, bats and buzzards.
After concrete (the real stuff) and concrete of the dirt variety, it was nice to find grass. This wasn't one of those perfect lawns, but it was a whole lot better than anything else we had encountered that morning. And Grandma was so cute when we picked it up. She appeared at the door, cloud of white hair and a great big smile, and thanked us repeatedly. I bet the granddaughter who arranged this is up for a better deal in the will.
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