I was disappointed, though not surprised, to find that Jared has not been weeding all of my flower beds as I would have liked. As such, we spent some of the day today working in the yard. I actually really love planting, weeding, harvesting, and generally touching the earth in any way I can. It is restorative and healing for me to care for plants of any kind. I didn't realize how much I've been missing the growing season until I drove my fingers into the patch of earth that still belongs to me.
As I sat taking a break at one point, I noticed this on the back lawn:
Since there's a moratorium on animals at my house, I couldn't figure out what caused these dead spots to be present so late in the spring. I asked Jared what in the world he thought was going on. He told me he had noticed paint flakes in the spots so he thought it was from when I fell off the ladder painting my house this summer (see my Couple of Amateurs post). I responded with a big "NO WAY," followed immediately by, "really?" He advised me to try it out. Here I am reenacting the view he had when he found me after the disaster. Imagine paint up to my elbows slowing dripping off my fingers into the lawn...
See the spots under my hands? I totally believe him now. I couldn't continue postulating different scenarios because someone wanted to look at my house so I had to beat it. Sure hope the people looking today don't have "no symmetrical dead spots on the lawn" on their home wish list...
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