Yard of the Month…Who Would Have Guessed?

It is official. I have a sign in my front lawn proving it.

My yard was selected the town’s Yard of the Month, and my neighbors are probably shaking their heads in amazement.

This is the same lawn that has suffered through years of my futile attempts to care for it myself. My thumb of many colors kept proving that all my misguided efforts to add beauty to my corner of the world were pointless and wasteful and tiring. So, I  turned to experts who know about plants, grass, flowers, and such.

I mentioned the honor to a friend, and she wondered, out loud, if someone in town is selecting the local Quote of the Month, or the Tree of the Month, or the School of the Month, or the Parent of the Month, or the Pet of the Month, or the…well, you do get the picture.

If I was puffed up about my yard honor, she certainly put it into perspective. Why don’t we have a Pet of the Month, or a Tree of the Month? How about a Garage of the Month, or a Lawnmower of the Month, or a Sprinkler of the Month?

I would win the Sprinkler of the Month. I can safely say that my sprinkler system takes more attention than anything in my life, other than the dying plants. That is not to say it is perfect. In fact, the reason it would be selected as the outstanding sprinkler is because it is the most expensive. That could be the criteria for Something of the Month honors: how much money it costs to maintain.

But that would take the fun out of the exercise. We want to honor the finished product, not the cost. And we want to recognize beauty, while understanding the efforts that went into producing beauty for all to enjoy.

The day after the sign was punched into my lawn, the newely planted snap dragons began to droop, their little buds falling like popcorn around the yard.

Now what am I to do? I guess I’ll rush down and buy something that is blooming in order to keep the sign for another few weeks. One can’t have dead flowers showing in the Yard of the Month. Or dead limbs. When I got home yesterday a large limb had fallen and was languishing over the sign. Oh, the trials of maintaining an image! To say nothing of the expense!