Finished At Last

Finally. Our yard was finished in time for Thanksgiving. The remainder of the project was not that extensive, only a day and a half of work for the landscaping crew. Yet our yard had been stalled at 75 percent complete for many weeks, partly because I was out of town for most of October, which delayed things.

When a home improvement project is interrupted, getting the crew to return is no small feat. Accomplishing this is dependent on a combination of luck, good cheer and a solid payment history. You need luck to forestall any mishaps from occurring on the previous customer's job, which will undoubtedly keep the crew from your doorstep. You need good cheer because no one wants to labor at the house with the cranky homeowner. The payment caveat -- that's self-explanatory.

To our relief, the landscapers did eventually return for the last push. In finishing off our yard, they extended a river-rock border along one planter, provided the dog with a patch of St. Augustine grass, planted a Meyer lemon tree, and built two raised planting beds of generous dimensions, which they surrounded with pea gravel for a well-groomed appearance.

At this writing, the planting beds are sitting idle, because Dennis has not yet decided what vegetation will hold the special honor of the initiation crop. Sugar snap peas, perhaps. Maybe some carrots. I'm thinking fava beans. Last spring, I paid a small fortune at the farmer's market for a tiny scoop of emerald green fava beans. Three or four months from now, I know that I'll be lured by recipe after recipe urging me to combine fresh fava beans with pasta, to puree them into a vibrant green sauce, or to saute them with hearty bacon and lively fresh herbs. I'll have to steel myself from these cooking temptations, unless I can get Dennis to nurture some fava beans of our own. Fat chance, that. Too exotic.

Eyeing the new, barren planting beds the other day, Dennis casually commented that they were "like two lidless coffins." "For whom?" I quipped back. "Frankenstein and his bride? They're 12 feet long." Despite my husband's unfortunate imagery, the planting beds will look great as soon as they're put to their intended use, with leaves and vines and flowery shapes covering the dirt and cascading over the sides. Time for Dennis to make a trip to the nursery and get some production happening -- sooner rather than later.

As for me, I've been cajoling some lettuces into maturity. Not that different from raising teenagers, really. You keep them well hydrated, you do your best to clear away any rotting debris in their vicinity, you shield them from insects and other opportunists, and you talk to them when they wilt until they perk up and return to their best form. In essence, you do what you can and hope for the best. One noteable benefit over rearing adolescents, nurturing lettuces always holds the promise of a nice salad or two. Add a little olive oil and vinegar, and you're dressed and ready. What could be better.