Last year we made the decision to give our front and side yard a facelift. In the never ending list of things to do on our house, it seemed like the best option in terms of improving that which affected others' view of things the most.
The backyard, however, remained untouched virtually all year. You think I'm joking.
So now that spring has sprung, we're starting to turn our attention to the back yard. Overgrown beds, weeds, dilapidated fences...we've got our work cut out for us.
It never ceases to amaze me that pretty much EVERY time I do yard work I end up thinking, "There's a sermon illustration here." It starts to get annoying. (Maybe that gives you a better idea of just how many weeds we have)
Last weekend as I was pulling, raking, digging and shoveling the weeds out of a certain severely neglected bed, I was thinking through my grievances of the annoying things in our yard. WHY are there so many weeds? ("there's a sermon illustration here") WHY are they so close to the ground and invasively hard to get out? ("there's a sermon illustration here") WHY do I continue to neglect things and be lazy when I know that it will just be more work for me next year? ("there's a sermon illustration here") WHY do plants keep coming up even when I've cleared these beds a million times before? ("there's a sermon illustration here") Specifically...WHY do I continue to dig up random tulips and daffodils only to replant them and they continue to grow in the same spots? And WHERE did this enormous hunk of MINT come from?? I didn't plant MINT!
And then in the midst of my little inner-rant it struck me that in all of this were growing MINT and DAFFODILS...two entirely lovely things. I mean, I have a dead tree full of carpenter ants in the front yard and I'm choosing to be annoyed with mint and daffodils??!
All week now I've been pondering the mint and daffodils in my everyday life. And now suddenly I can't wait to get back out and work in my garden again.