First of all, there is a mini barn situation.
Long time readers may remember its public debut back in 2011 with Day 1 of the kitchen remodel when the demo released a lot of evil spirits who wrecked havoc on my house.
|No damage anywhere. Yes, I'm a lucky girl.|
Or it was Charlie Sheen? The post obviously included lots of really relevant pop culture references about assholes and drugs and destruction. I completely forget what my titles are about once I hit publish. It's a serious problem.
But yes there's the mini barn that was once shaded underneath a weeping willow in her golden years, my pride and joy of the house. After the tree fell that shitty mini barn was front and center for everyone to see and I felt deep, deep shame every time I had to go get my lawn equipment.
It was in a state of disrepair thanks to some ants, bees, dry rot and general neglect. I used to lock the doors to "protect" the lawn equipment until one day I lost the key and had to rip off the entire lock out of the wood. It just limply hangs there now...
|Your final sunset, mini barn of shame.|
And sometimes random pieces of wood would just fall off as you can see on the doors... They can go live at that weird Dutch Colonial thing across the street.
And so it sat for another two years taunting me. Last summer I worked out a deal to donate the mini barn to a nearby church (who would then repair it - I'm not a jerk). A church seems like the last place I would donate it considering I'm a heathen of the highest UNorder but they host our neighborhood farmer's market and marry gays and I can write it off on my taxes so it worked out for everyone!
Until it didn't. I emptied the shed and waited from last summer until LAST WEEK for the church's handyman to come pick it up. I groveled, I begged, I passive-aggressived, I finally sent threatening text messages promising to offer the barnette to Craigslist - or worse, the local Baptist church - if they didn't get it.
Turns out the handyman is a junkie and what I'm diagnosing as bipolar so no matter I do I can't seem to get away from assholes, drugs and destruction. I'm pretty lenient when it comes to working out your personal demons, dude, but not only did I miss this year's last year's tax return it's now too late to plant grass this summer so FUCK YOU.
I'm obviously very upset by the grass thing.
|The track in the grass is actually from when I drove on wet ground earlier this year. Oops.|
But this is what we look like now!! Forever minty but barnless. Somehow I have a feeling that the elation I feel following over 10 months of waiting for this empty space cannot be adequately expressed by my clunky blogging but I consider it a absolute victory.
It's a fairly large area which means lots of space - maybe 15-20 feet along the side of the house - to create some gorgeous landscaping that I may or may not kill! This is the view I see most when I come home so I want it to be beautiful.
The landscaping in front of the house - that the neighbors see - can take care of itself. It's dead to me. Maybe literally at this point...
I think I'll want to put something big and bold right there - like maybe some limelight hydrangeas!
Fresh from last week's post is this beauty. The grass at the bottom is Silk Tassels Morrow's Sedge I do believe and it wouldn't hurt my feelings if that got into my yard as well. They look like muppet wigs and I'm totally down with that.
Basically I wrote this whole thing to tell you about how excited I am about some new negative space in my yard and to warn you that some plant posts will be coming in the future.
Also writing as a warning to that gawddamn bipolar junkie motherfucker that I will seriously fuck his shit up the next time I see him.*
*not smile as big as I normally do