For the two years we have lived here at the Rookery, the North 40, which is in fact the south quarter acre, has been an ugly weed farm that I imagine to have been the bane of the neighborhood, or at least of the neighbor whose swimming pool looks out over the area. The former owners used the spot as a scrapyard and left the area crossed with ruts that I learned (the hard, but thanks to the extended warranty not expensive way) can eat a riding mower. Since I couldn't mow it and some idiot around here puts thistle seed out to feed the starlings and barn swallows that nest in my barn rafters, the weeds took over. For starters, the thistles topped six feet tall. For starters.
No more. The landscapers came out and brush hogged the area, kindly shaving off some of the taller bumps in the process, so I just have to fill in a few lower areas. Amazing how much bigger the property looks when you can get to all of it. Now that the area is clear, I wonder how we went two years essentially wasting more land than most city-dwelling homeowners have to call their own.
1 comment:
Most city dwellers have a pocket handkerchief for land, while we, when in Lincolnshire, out in the sticks, thought we had a big garden, at a quarter acre. This is as much as your wasteland was.
Good luck with it, and keep telling us about it.
Nimrod
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