Early Birds and Overgrown Vines: A Weekend Yard Tale

Written July 12, 2025

Hello, Dear Readers,

When I woke up this morning, my wife was already outside, hard at work tackling the yard tasks she had planned for the day. Lately, she’s been taking on more of the yard work to help me out—especially since I’ve had some pain in my foot from a minor gout flare-up. She was worried it might make things harder for me, so she quietly stepped in.

She can’t do everything, of course, but she consistently puts in about an hour to an hour and a half on weekends and holidays. And let me tell you—it makes a big difference.

When you’re dealing with kidney issues, you really have to be mindful of your body. Gout can make even walking feel like a medieval punishment. Thankfully, this time the attack was small and short-lived. But my wife, ever the vigilant one, is still concerned—about the gout, my kidneys, and probably the rest of me too.

Back when we lived in Portland, yard work wasn’t such a big deal. The summers were dry, and not much grew. Most of our neighbors had waved the white flag on green lawns long ago—watering restrictions and parched earth will do that to a community.

Now that we’re in Nashville, it’s a whole different story. We get regular summer rain, and the humidity makes everything grow like it’s auditioning for Jumanji. If you don’t stay on top of it, the yard gets wild fast.

I always want to help with the yard, but my wife is an early bird with a running start. By the time I rolled out of bed, she’d already worked out, practiced her German, and was knee-deep in hedge trimming. Since she started helping, it’s become way easier to keep things under control. She’s trimmed back the overgrown bushes so they now look neat and intentional, not like they’re plotting to take over the driveway.

There were some vines sneaking up the back of the house—beautiful, but potentially damaging. She caught them just in time, yanking most of them before they could strangle the siding. We hadn’t gotten around to the back section yet, though, and those had already grown about two feet. I’d planned to run a 5K and then help her with the vines, but by the time I was laced up and ready, she was already heading back inside. Apparently, she’d gotten up way earlier than me and knocked out her to-do list like a one-woman landscaping crew.

We picked up a power washer last weekend, and she’s got her sights set on the driveway, the deck, and the siding next. After that, it’s gutter-cleaning season. (Lucky us.) Homeownership is not for the faint of heart—or for people who like sitting still.

She’s also been pulling weeds from the front yard like it’s a personal mission. Thanks to her, the house is looking pretty sharp—no wild grass, no messy vines, no rogue weeds. We’ve still got more to tackle tomorrow and next weekend if we don’t get through it all, but hey, one trimmed bush at a time.

Leaf It to Me: Adventures in Yard Work

Written March 23, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

This morning, I found myself engaged in a rare and noble quest: yard work. Not my usual weekend ritual, mind you. I typically leave the gardening to people with a stronger back and a greener thumb. But alas, when you live on a hill, gravity, and nature team up like villains in a buddy cop movie—always ready to make things harder than they need to be.

Now, our yard has a bit of a wild streak. If left alone, it doesn’t just grow—it plots. One year, we made the rookie mistake of letting the ivy do its thing. “It’ll look charming,” we said. “Like an English cottage!” What we got instead was a full-on plant invasion. The ivy crept up the side of our house like it was trying to break in. And since the exterior isn’t fully bricked, my wife was convinced it would start dismantling our home from the foundation up. We ended up yanking it off the wall like it owed us money and then spent the rest of the day cleaning up its leafy aftermath. Never again.

This week, my wife decided it was time to bring order to the front yard. She had asked me earlier to vacuum—yes, vacuum—the leaves from the front yard so she could tame some decorative plants that had begun asserting their independence. I agreed, of course, then promptly forgot. Saturday came and went in a blur of other tasks. Classic.

Luckily, the weather today was cooperative. My weather app promised rain… just not yet. So I suited up and got to it. Leaf vacuum in hand, I tackled the neglected zone while my wife charged in later with a weedwhacker, swinging it like a hedge-knight with a hedge-trimming sword. She’s been clearing weeds too—methodically, heroically, like she’s one step away from turning the whole place into a botanical museum.

Now, my wife is a loyal reader of Eat That Frog! by Brian Tracy. She’s constantly organizing, scheduling, and maximizing productivity. However, she claims she struggles with “putting things away,” though I think the real issue is her to-do list has more pages than War and Peace. When she blames herself for not getting everything done, I remind her we’re human, not calendar apps with arms.

Ironically, it was her beloved frog book that nudged me into action today. One of its golden rules? Don’t put off the tough stuff. So next time I’m assigned an oddball task, I’ll let my phone remember for me. Set a reminder. No excuses.

Because if you’re going to eat the frog, you may as well season it and serve it hot.