Leaving the yard to its own devices doesn't equal not having to perform any yard maintenance. Someday if all the stars align and the moles retreat, resulting in no more mole tunnels and the added bonus (redundant, I know) of the absence of any temptation for Miss Puppy to dig holes for moles although she'd still have the chipmunks to keep her busy...
Was I saying something?
Ah. If the stars align and the weather is good and absent any other interference (Go cicadas, go!) (If you're like me you now have the theme to Speed Racer running through your brain. Sorry.) the yard will someday be covered with more moss rather than less, with clover in the sunny spots and liriope and hostas filling the very large and shaded center island.
But we're not there yet. I'm outside every day (weather permitting; I don't do cold) with a weed-lever-puller-upper thingy displacing dandelions, plantain weeds and violets that encroach on the liriope. I've filled buckets and buckets and more buckets with weeds; I'm convinced that once the moss takes over no other weeds will be able to set up housekeeping but until that happens I'm weeding my fingers to the bone.
In addition, I'm taking down leggy rhododendrons a few at a time and replacing them with bamboo (don't panic; it's the clumping kind), which will be self-sustaining, easier to contain, half the height of the fence and particularly beneficial for the environment.
I feel like I'm about halfway there, although I'm not sure yet which side of "about halfway there" I'm on right now.
So I've been thinking: how do you identify a tipping point? How do you know when you've reached the apex and it's all downhill from here?
I have the same question when it comes to measuring progress inside the house.
I used to binge and binge on clothes and decorative objects and kitchenware and scissors and when the closets and basement and garage got full I bought a bigger house. When the kids came along I had to get more and bigger stuff for them: cribs, toys, sports equipment, more furniture, more books, more dishes. We got a fish tank, a microscope, a video game, a basketball hoop, sleeping bags, themed bedspreads, themed sheets, baseball hats, Legos and clip-together toys similar to Legos but with different names to distinguish them from Legos. We had fleece blankets and woven blankets and king-sized blankets and throw blankets and Dora the Explorer blankets. We had stand up vacuums, handheld vacuums, rechargeable vacuums and robot vacuums. We accumulated hammers, wrenches, screwdrivers, nails, screws, shovels, spades, rakes, brooms, cutters, clippers and loppers.
Oh, and lots and lots of shoes.
Sometime in the past few years I quit buying everything that didn't buy me first and started trying to get rid of more stuff than we brought in. And it was HARD.
Replace old, beat-up luggage, but what to do with it? Nobody wants tired old luggage with no wheels, so it just sat in the basement for a couple of years until I gave it to the Salvation Army.
Get rid of clothes that don't fit or are out of style or have holes or haven't been worn in at least two years. But I might wear that holey tee shirt under something so maybe I should keep it.
The fish poacher? I used to use it but the kids don't want to eat poached salmon and if they did I could use a vegetable steamer anyway. The mortar and pestle? I used it once for a cookie recipe and we didn't even like the cookies.
I've been going through closets, cabinets and pantries for a couple of years now. It helps to do it when I'm in a foul mood because I show no mercy: extra sheets that the kids might need for camp or college? Out. Shoes that I like but the dog chewed them? Out. The second and third string hand vacs, blowdryers and blankets? Out.
Have I reached the halfway point? How do I know? Will I be able to tell when I open cabinets and drawers and they're empty? Will I know when there are no more dandelions in the yard and all the rhododendrons have been replaced with bamboo?
How do you know when you're halfway there? Are you ever halfway there, or is "halfway there" a myth like parallel lines that never meet even though they appear to?




