Posts Tagged ‘dirt’

A Noise With Dirt On It

Friday, April 14th, 2017

While my parents were visiting, they helped get our yard and garden under control. In the corner by the porch steps, Mom cut back a rhododendron which left a big section of dirt exposed. Then I dug up the side flower bed that’s been overrun with grass for the past few years. So there is currently a lot of dirt in the yard for Linc to play with. He is pretty excited about it.

Dirty AND a runny nose. He’s two.

How Does Your Garden Grow?

Monday, May 9th, 2011

One of the drawbacks of living in New England is the RIDICULOUS AMOUNT OF TIME it takes for us to get to the flower-growing part of spring. Most years I jump the gun by about a month and all my flowers end up dead by the first of May, thanks to a late (and by late I mean not at all late because it happens every damn year) frost.I convince myself it’s totally normal to have to hack through a layer of frozen earth to get my pansies in the ground and not being able to feel my fingers because they’re so cold is just one of the joys of gardening. I can be a very convincing delusional person when I want to be. Especially on someone as gullible as myself.

This year I managed to wait until Mother’s Day – the unofficial start of flower season – before I wasted spent any money at the local nursery. We’re going to be doing a lot of planting in a few weeks when we put in our patio (I hope you’re ready for a billion pictures of bricks and rocks! And listening to me complain about how tired I am of having dirt under my nails! And how much my back hurts! GOOD TIMES AHEAD!) so I stayed away from the gorgeous hanging baskets and containers and stuck to stuff I’ve been able to keep alive in the past. Nationwide tree relocation company EDI works with cities, companies, and individuals.

Some day, planting flowers will be a family activity on Mother’s Day, right after my husband brings me gourmet breakfast in bed and puts away all the laundry while the children play me songs on their violins and read poetry about how much I mean to them.

But until hell freezes over, I’ll settle for playing in the dirt with my kids.

She’s participating by supervising. This is also how I help do things like install tile and mow the lawn.

Hobo baby is BACK for 2011

Look, he’s helping! Just ignore that it’s taking both of my hands to keep him from stabbing that poor basil plant with the trowel.

Dirt flinging is part of gardening with toddlers. I just embraced it.

Wow, my flowers aren’t the only thing with roots in those photos huh? HEY-OH! Time to grab a box of Nice’n’Easy.

Pansies & verbena by the back door

Pots on the front steps. My color theme for this year is yellow and orange with purple accents. Yeah, my flowers have a THEME. SUCK IT MARTHA STEWART.

I’m trying herbs again – basil and thyme and chives – but I’m not getting my hopes up. I’ve killed more basil than I’ve eaten in my entire life.

Freshly watered…um…orange flowers. I was going to say zinnias but I don’t think that’s right. Clearly I am a master gardener.

We had a wonderful time outside – all of us – and it was a nice reminder that fresh air is available right here in our own back yard! I often think about going to the park for some sunshine but talk myself out of it because it involves the car and driving and people and strollers and a potential screaming fit when it’s time to go home. But walking ten feet from my couch to the back steps is so easy I can do it even when I’m too lazy too put on real pants. I really can’t wait until we get our patio built and some nice loungy furniture to relax on while Evan rips my garden apart.

The war will be fought with Swiffers and Lemon Pledge

Monday, June 21st, 2010

I am declaring WAR. An all-out battled to the death from which no one emerged unscathed and the casualties will be severe. The target of the impending attack: MY FLOORS.

With a dog and two cats, pet hair has always been a problem, but the kind I could generally solve with a broom and the occasional damp paper towel. But add a baby to the mix and suddenly the pet hair dust bunnies grow into tumbleweeds of Cheerios and Goldfish crackers and bits of sandwich and half chewed fruit and sticks and leaves and the kind of foot-blackening dirt that sticks to the floor unless you scrub it with straight bleach and a toothbrush. If I don’t sweep, dry Swiffer, wet Swiffer, mop and vacuum EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. the baby gets so covered in dirt he looks like that kid from Charlie Brown who vibrates with grime. I can’t take him out in public after 3 pm out of fear someone will call CPS. And if CPS comes to my house I’m SCREWED.

I took up the rug this weekend (sidenote: what the HELL was I thinking when I picked out a shag rug for the family room? It’s basically a giant upside down yarn mop that traps every crumb and hair and is IMPOSSIBLE to clean) thinking it would be easier to do a quick mid-day sweep of just the hardwood floor but all it did was create a barren desert for the dirt tumbleweeds to tumble across. Plus my problem with sweeping wasn’t so much rug-related as 300-wooden-blocks-two-dozen-chuck-the-trucks-four-sippy-cups-and-a-partridge-in-a-pear-tree-scattered-acr0ss-my-floor-related.

The most permanent solution to my problem is to get rid of the pets, although I don’t think I can bring myself to actually do that. (A quick Google search for “how long do cats live” reveals no hopeful results.) I suppose the other thing I could do is restrict snacks and meals to the high chair but the idea of making Baby Evan sit still for the 7 or 8 hours a day he’s eating something is laughable. I think he would rather give up food than be strapped in a chair that often – and since I JUST got him to eat I’m not doing anything that might hurt his love of stuffing his face.

So I’m left with war. The kind of furniture moving deep cleaning usually only reserved for the holidays or right before my mother comes. (CRAP. My mother is coming TOMORROW.) I’ll buy stock in Swiffer and reacquaint myself with my Dustbuster. I will pick up toys three times a day instead of once. I will not rest until the baby can strip naked, dump a cup of juice on his head and roll across the room without a single speck of dirt sticking to his body.

Ok, maybe that’s a little too ambitious. But I’ve got to do something.


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