Inspired A
So, a couple people I have grown to really treasure have updated in the last couple days after some longish silences and I figured it was about time I did the same. Funny as I sit here my gut response that nothing really big has happened since James and I moved into our house but actually its been over a year now... and well a lot HAS happened. Most folks on here probably still don't know I am GM of my current location on a for real permanent sort of basis. I could do a whole post on that a lone but it's not where my brain is heading right now.
I can't hope to do it justice but just walking back in from our suburban front yard I get a little reflective on the events of late... Here is the first that comes to mind:
The yard - When we bought the short sale, we knew it had been under recent neglect despite being a relatively newish place. A lot of it was minor, paint chips, a broken door, and the like but the big, nasty glaring eyesore was the yard. The front yard was a trodden smear of mud and yellow strangles of grass that made you just want to pave it over. I am most often at a game table, in front of a computer or reading. So I responded with a classic me half-shrug and walked inside bent on finding the ideal orientation of game rooms (computer, console, and table top). Some people claim there are other rooms in houses, aside from the love chamber and feeding trough... but I think they are fictional or diversion tactics to lower my PvP rankings. Anyway... James often was found looking out front and muttering commentary about how hard it might be to fix the sprinkler system. Somewhere in the root of my brain it dawned on me that he cared about... you know... outside.
After catching this stare one too many times I took it upon myself to try to do something about it. I bought a hand aerator and punched a gazillion holes in the lawn. I fertilized, watered, and weeded... Ignoring the old-school farm boy in my head that was trying to remind me how late in the season it was (We took possession in September). James' looks became more pessimistic and a few helpful neighbors chimed in that prior residents had had a $3000 quote to fix the sprinklers. I gave up, until "someday" when we had to resources to go ground zero. I thought James had too.
Come this spring, James gave it another go. We did more seed, more watering, and started earlier. I helped a little, mostly what I could after long stretches of work and mostly what I needed to do to not be paralyzed with guilt. But honestly, when those first few scraggly sprouts started, I sighed and thought how best to remain supportive while telling James it was okay to wait another year.
So I tried to distract us both by pursuing a long standing pipe dream of a backyard garden. We researched technique. Bounced ideas about it off our green thumb friends. We hit a local school's heirloom plant sale. Planned hard for tomatoes, tried to till, broke a tiller, and found a local farm kid with an industrial tiller to get the soil ready. And soon enough we had homemade cages, over 24 tomato plants, a handful of peppers and a big, often prolific garden. I was so proud of him and well, me too, I was certain that it was accomplishment enough that I didn't even mention I felt he could give up on the yard again.
He didn't.
Each week I would note a struggling effort and few more thin blades of blue mountain grass working up the packed and dusty clay. And I figured there wasn't any harm in it the effort. I even did another seed and feed. It wasn't until my lazy butt was sleeping in one morning and he came in holding a cracked plastic joint and proclaimed:
"45 cents."
Shaking off mid-morning confusion I realized he meant the sprinklers. He explained that one piece had broken, he had replaced it ridiculously cheaply and that there was no sign of leaks since he'd fixed it. And the lawn? Exploded. Over the next few weeks, neighbors started stopping to comment, the guy next door even asked how we'd done it and got rid of his few brown spots. All the while James worked and believed. And it is the best damn lawn on the loop.
So often growing up gay, it has been about hiding, muting, or even just avoiding things. It was so nice to have something in my life, from my partner that wasn't just privately beautiful. It was something to show the world, and inspire others to try to better too. And I had thrown in the towel on it this year. So anyway, not only can he garden with me, but James' Mean Green Mother of a Thumb brought a dead lawn to life so strong, it is still bright green two days before Thanksgiving.
I don't even half-shrug at it anymore.
I can't hope to do it justice but just walking back in from our suburban front yard I get a little reflective on the events of late... Here is the first that comes to mind:
The yard - When we bought the short sale, we knew it had been under recent neglect despite being a relatively newish place. A lot of it was minor, paint chips, a broken door, and the like but the big, nasty glaring eyesore was the yard. The front yard was a trodden smear of mud and yellow strangles of grass that made you just want to pave it over. I am most often at a game table, in front of a computer or reading. So I responded with a classic me half-shrug and walked inside bent on finding the ideal orientation of game rooms (computer, console, and table top). Some people claim there are other rooms in houses, aside from the love chamber and feeding trough... but I think they are fictional or diversion tactics to lower my PvP rankings. Anyway... James often was found looking out front and muttering commentary about how hard it might be to fix the sprinkler system. Somewhere in the root of my brain it dawned on me that he cared about... you know... outside.
After catching this stare one too many times I took it upon myself to try to do something about it. I bought a hand aerator and punched a gazillion holes in the lawn. I fertilized, watered, and weeded... Ignoring the old-school farm boy in my head that was trying to remind me how late in the season it was (We took possession in September). James' looks became more pessimistic and a few helpful neighbors chimed in that prior residents had had a $3000 quote to fix the sprinklers. I gave up, until "someday" when we had to resources to go ground zero. I thought James had too.
Come this spring, James gave it another go. We did more seed, more watering, and started earlier. I helped a little, mostly what I could after long stretches of work and mostly what I needed to do to not be paralyzed with guilt. But honestly, when those first few scraggly sprouts started, I sighed and thought how best to remain supportive while telling James it was okay to wait another year.
So I tried to distract us both by pursuing a long standing pipe dream of a backyard garden. We researched technique. Bounced ideas about it off our green thumb friends. We hit a local school's heirloom plant sale. Planned hard for tomatoes, tried to till, broke a tiller, and found a local farm kid with an industrial tiller to get the soil ready. And soon enough we had homemade cages, over 24 tomato plants, a handful of peppers and a big, often prolific garden. I was so proud of him and well, me too, I was certain that it was accomplishment enough that I didn't even mention I felt he could give up on the yard again.
He didn't.
Each week I would note a struggling effort and few more thin blades of blue mountain grass working up the packed and dusty clay. And I figured there wasn't any harm in it the effort. I even did another seed and feed. It wasn't until my lazy butt was sleeping in one morning and he came in holding a cracked plastic joint and proclaimed:
"45 cents."
Shaking off mid-morning confusion I realized he meant the sprinklers. He explained that one piece had broken, he had replaced it ridiculously cheaply and that there was no sign of leaks since he'd fixed it. And the lawn? Exploded. Over the next few weeks, neighbors started stopping to comment, the guy next door even asked how we'd done it and got rid of his few brown spots. All the while James worked and believed. And it is the best damn lawn on the loop.
So often growing up gay, it has been about hiding, muting, or even just avoiding things. It was so nice to have something in my life, from my partner that wasn't just privately beautiful. It was something to show the world, and inspire others to try to better too. And I had thrown in the towel on it this year. So anyway, not only can he garden with me, but James' Mean Green Mother of a Thumb brought a dead lawn to life so strong, it is still bright green two days before Thanksgiving.
I don't even half-shrug at it anymore.