Overgrown

"I've stopped cutting the roses in my yard, because I'm trying to stop intervening in their natural cycle."

I read this sentence, as it appeared in the publisher of skirt!'s blog yesterday. I immediately breathed a sigh of relief, somehow joining in the camaraderie I created between the two of us. I don't think she meant what I wanted her to mean. I'm the queen of "not intervening" with the natural world. Pictured above is my own backyard... a far cry from the manicured lawn I dreamt of having when moving into our 1920s Bungalow. Not only do I lack the time to devote to the jungle that is our yard, I have not an inkling as to how to cut, de-weed and beautify our small plot. Part of the problem is that I am easily demoralized. I'm a brown thumb, and seem to have the touch of death on every living thing that I aim to coach into growth. The weeds sprouting up all over our green grass don't seem to require loving attention, however. No, they do just fine flourishing on their own. What sweethearts.

In confession, I post this embarrassing show of neglect for two reasons:

1. To turn myself into the HOA before they come knocking at my front door. I know, it's an eyesore and it mars the good name of our lovely neighborhood.

2. I need (and want) to regain confidence that I'm can be a good steward of my natural environment.

3. I need help.

So, if you have an aptitude for yard-recovery, I have a weed wacker, a lawn mover, a bed of weeds with your name on it.

Kindly yours,

Cory