I walk out my front door and gaze into my small yard. Weeds are everywhere. Ugly weeds. They stick up like scrawny old unkempt sailors mocking me. I cut them down, and they spring right back up. Lou Ann wants to transform my yard into a cottage garden with bushes and flowers and a brick walkway.
I would be content with a couple of crepe myrtles, an azalea bush or so, a few gardenias, and grass. But I'll take the cottage garden. It's just that Lou Ann isn't here in the spring, and we're too busy in the summer to manage a major project like that. So it may be several years before that comes to fruition.
In the meanwhile I've planted a wisteria vine. Frank let me dig up a root from his yard. In the process I broke off the green shoot, and mommucked the root until it looked like a frayed metal cable (I never knew a wisteria root was so tough). I planted it anyway since everyone told me it's nearly impossible to kill wisteria. Sure enough it quickly sprouted, only to have David step on it and break off the shoot again. We've hardly had any rain, and I've only remembered to water it once, but lo and behold, it now is sporting three hearty shoots with healthy green leaves.
My plan is to train it to grow up my porch post and under the facia board on the porch. That's the way my grandmama had it years ago. Everyone tells me to be careful, that wisteria, lovely as it is, has a sinister streak that twists, tangles, and strangles all within its grasp. But I don't think I'll have to worry about that before at least next summer.
In the meanwhile I'll just dig up a few weeds and run the grass cutter across the front yard.
Take a journey back in time with our latest Ocracoke Newsletter. You can capture some of the thrill of riding on the old mailboat Aleta by clicking here.