Sunday evening after the construction crew left, it was really too dark and a little too cool with short sleeves on for me to move all the plants and patio furniture back in it’s designated space. However, I couldn’t wait. I wanted it all perfect.
Actually perfect is a misnomer. That is particularly true in reference to our lawn. Initially, when we constructed the house we started out with the concept of low maintenance yard. From my limited perspective over the past sixteen years, all I can say is that “No such thing exists.” The term “low maintenance” is an oxymoron. That is particularly true in relation to our yard. Trust me, there is always something!
Our yard, like it’s owners is far from perfect. All I can say is: “You should have seen the place when the previous owner had it.” It was simply pasture land back then. Consequently, both the General and I have added our share of sweat equity to the place.
That mindset sounds like a line from Shenandoah, the Civil War movie staring Jimmy Stewart, as Charlie Anderson. He plays the part of a Virginian farmer attempting to keep his family out of the war. With an empty chair at the table representing his wife’s place, he fulfills a promise made to her on her death bed. She wanted him to be an appropriate role model for their children and begin each meal by saying grace.
True to his word, he his prayer of thanksgiving is a little shallow: "Lord, we cleared this land, we plowed it, sowed it, and harvested it. We cooked the harvest. We wouldn't be here, we wouldn't be eatin', if we hadn't done it all ourselves. We worked dog-boned hard for every crumb and morsel, but we thank you just the same anyway, Lord, for the food we're about to eat. Amen."
I went to bed Sunday evening with the thought that the yard looked fantastic. I still had a few weeds to pull out of the river rock, but I’d get it done before the General’s return. I’m a smart man about things like that. Well, “Some of the time is probably more accurate”. I was really eager for the General to see the pergola. The overall look met my expectations. Of course, it was too dark on Sunday evening for me to take a photo, so I promised to send one the following day.
Of course, all of that was before they came. There were only two of them, but they had back up. Whether they came in the middle of the night or in the early morning darkness, I do not know. I was startled to see them. Actually, that’s an understatement. I looked at them with a sense of “Oh No”!
Had it not been for the high beam headlights of my car as I backed out of the garage to head to an early morning doctor’s appointment, I might not have noticed them. I’m still amazed at high quickly I got the car stopped and the garage door raised again and ran through the house toward the front door. It was with a sense of real panic. Like I said, there were two of them. They had come uninvited, but they paid little attention to my presence. They were pretty content to do whatever they wanted to do and didn’t seem to mind that I had joined them.
If you’ve never discovered two full-size horses in your front yard, you can’t begin to image what that feels like. Add to it a veil of darkness and it even gets more surreal. For starters, I was shocked that the front yard gate was closed. How did the horses get in? Hurrying to get it open and repositioning myself behind the horses as I told them to take the “first left” and get out of Dodge before my over-and-under shotgun was pointed in their direction. They scurried and I was grateful.
One of the first rules of country living is: “You always leave the gate the way you find it.” When the General and I first moved to Henly, several folks thought I was an inept city-dweller and didn’t have the sense to pour it out of a boot with the directions on the heel. Several folks told me to always leave the gate the way you find it.
I always thanked folks for their sound advice, but I didn’t need to be told to leave the gate they way I found it. Intuitively, I would have done so. My mamma didn’t raise no fool. It is one of those things that makes common sense. On the other hand, maybe it isn’t so common.
There was an open gate in the back yard. It is the gate the workers used to haul in lumber on Sunday. Guess what? It was partially open. They didn’t leave the gate the way they found it. So the two adventurous horses made their assault from the rear of the house. Assault is a strong word, but it doesn’t begin to describe the kind of damage that two horses can do to one’s landscaping. I’ve got one tree in the back that probably will never be a grown-up tree. It is broken to smithereens.
I don’t know at what point the water sprinklers came on or even whether they now still work. Trust me, the sprinkler heads were put to the test. There is about a four foot wide swath across the entire front yard where there is no longer any grass. I guess you could say the two horses left their signature on everything they touched. It is an absolute mess!
So instead of being the finishing touch, the pergola represents a new beginning. What can I say? It is not the end of the world. It can be recreated. All it will take is time. Did I mention that it is a little late in the year to put down new sod? I guess we will be content with that “half done” look rather than finished look.
All My Best!
Don