The Not-So-Secret Garden

Newsletter 2021-04-12

I made a mistake. At this point, you should assume that’s the default starting condition of all my stories. But in this case, it's especially true. Filled with unjustified self-confidence after finally getting grass to grow in my pig-ravaged backyard, I decided to give the front yard a shot. The grass out there has the benefit of not being trampled by an urban swine herd (except when said herd escapes and draws the attention of local law enforcement, but that’s another story). That doesn’t mean the front yard is in good shape. It turns out that, even without swine intervention, I’m a pretty terrible homeowner. My front yard is half grass and half other green things that sort of look like grass as long as you keep them mowed down and squint a little. I’d call them weeds, but that implies that I want them gone. When I don’t get a strong weed crop, my front yard is fifty-percent bare dirt, which makes my property look apocalypse chic. My father-in-law has suggested more than once that, r…