Working in the yard is so cathartic
In my younger days there was no yard project I was unwilling to tackle.
Shortly after moving into my first home on Summerhill Drive, I bought a sling blade and single handedly eradicated the overgrowth on the backyard hill.
I remember being tired and exhausted from my days of labor, but the end product gave me such a sense of accomplishment.
I planted a vegetable garden at the bottom of that hill, and although it was my first time out of the gate planting, I was proud of my cucumbers.
I still remember bragging to my neighbor, John Brooks, about my bounty while he just laughed at my three-pound vegetables.
I also planted my first rose garden on the side yard.
Upon moving into my current home, I continued to enjoy working in the yard.
Although we had the backyard professionally landscaped shortly after hubby and I married, maintenance and upkeep were still required.
There have been plenty of summers one could have found me in the backyard hanging from a ladder with my electric hedge trimmers cutting back the elaeagnus shrubs.
Those were the good old days – drenched in sweat and muscles aching along with that gratifying feeling of accomplishment.
Not to mention, when all was done, I got to enjoy the fruits of my labor.
However, for the past few years, I have had to dial back a few of my yard chores.
Not only can I not manage the eight-foot shrubbery anymore, I can no longer work from sun up until sun down.
Never has the loss of my youth been more apparent than when it comes to yard work.
And to exacerbate the situation, moving from being a stay-at-home mom to a part-time employee has cut into the hours I used to spend working in my yard.
In fact, I can hardly believe that Easter has come and gone, and for the first time in as far back as I can remember, I have yet to even visit a garden center.
I have certainly thought about going, but procrastination and excuses have kept me from a trip.
Maybe it’s because I have decided to seek out some professional help to aid with the upkeep of my yard or perhaps it’s just that life has bogged me down.
Whatever the reason, there is one thing I know. I need to get off my laurels and get moving.
Getting in the dirt is in my blood.
Both my maternal and paternal grandparents had gardens.
Boy do I miss those fresh butterbeans.
And my dad still keeps a small garden in the back of his home. We have yet to have a summer without tomatoes thanks to his efforts.
There is something cathartic about working in the yard for me, and I believe once I get back at it, all will be right with the world.
See you at the Flower Center!
Terri Cowart Frazier is a reporter for The Vicksburg Post. She can be reached at email@example.com.