Looks Like Backyard Season Has Begun...

 Last year, we dug a hole in the backyard, encircled it with rocks, threw in some paper and wood, and celebrated the arrival of spring with a fire. Too bad it snowed every time we used it.

That was then. This spring, different story.

This year, it's been wonderful.

The Backyard Season has officially begun.

Last week we had family visiting from out-of-state, a perfect excuse to chop up some kindling and start a fire suitable for weenie roasting and s'mores. Thankfully, the snow never hit, even though we did get a few drops of rain.

We also dug out the grill from its winter slumber--we've used it a couple of times. There's something different about meat cooked with charcoal on a grill...it screams backyard. We're fortunate enough to have a little space we call our own, or the bank calls it there's until we pay off the mortgage, then it's officially our's (and the government's...). 

If we weren't so tired of battling traffic and the lack of yard sales this morning, we might be celebrating surviving another day with a fire crackling at our feet. The wind would be blowing the smoke in every direction seemingly all at once. We'd need to wash our clothes on laundry day.

The world is going nuts, but there's one place that offers sanctuary from all the insanity...

Backyard Season has begun.

Give Thanks...O Beautiful, For Spacious Skies

 

At choir practice this morning, we rehearsed an awesome version of Katharine Lee Bates's patriotic classic, America the Beautiful. Great rehearsal for the first time the choir saw the music. Of course, it's a song we've all known basically since birth. The practice ended, I climbed into my car and started for home.

I had a tough time keeping my eyes on the road...the sky was mesmerizing.

Basically, I witnessed the first line of the song..."Oh beautiful for spacious skies."

This afternoon, we decided to bring to life our fire pit after several months buried under literal feet of snow. I started the fire an hour or two before we ate. Once the fire was lit and started to grow, I just sat in a chair and stared at the sky. The blues, the whites. It was incredible. I snapped a few pictures, but it can in no way capture the scene before me. 

We moved a few years ago, moved from an established community where our neighborhood was established about a century ago with large trees planted decades ago reaching for the sky. We moved to a mountain where the oldest tree (man planted) is maybe twenty years old. And on our street, the homes are less than five years old. After we were here a year or so, I asked my kids what they missed most from where we used to live. My son said, the trees.

I miss the trees, too, but I have to say, the lack of trees opens up the sky, and because we moved from a highly populated area to one that's quite the opposite, there's not as much pollution in the air making what you see even more spectacular.

I'm grateful for the beauty of the skies. I'm grateful I can see it, enjoy it, appreciate it. It's an honor to be able to enjoy such art. Oh, how beautiful are those spacious skies.

Every Neighborhood Has One Perfect Lawn...It's Not Ours

 There's always one--sometimes more than one--but there's one that stands apart, one lawn in the neighborhood that's as close to perfect as possible. In our neighborhood it's the house next door.

It makes all the other lawns not-so-green with envy.

We knew when we moved here that our neighbor was particular about his yard. They moved in several months ahead of us and as we would drive up and check the progress on the house from time to time, our neighbor was always outside working in his lawn-less yard. He was smoothing the land making sure it was perfect. Then, we helped put in sod. 

You could see how much work he had put into it.

And it didn't stop there. Ever since the first rolls of sod we put down, it's been his passion. Today he mowed his lawn for the first time this season. It looks great.

We made a conscience decision to put in less grass rather than more. Our front yard has basically a strip of lawn that goes to the backyard. In the back we have two large sections for gardens, spaces where we could have planted grass but decided not to. It takes about fifteen minutes to mow the whole thing.

Our lawn isn't a complete failure, but I know it's not the priority as others. We like it green. We don't want it to die. We take care of it. As with all things, there are, of course, varying degrees of "taking care of." Mine is somewhere lower than perfect.

A new growing season is upon us...and some are already mowing their lawns.

Not us, at least not now.