Peeps, it's all spring up in here, and I've been a cleaning fool.
Every window on the first floor of the house, inside and out (!) is sparkling. The fruit trees are carefully butchered... I mean, pruned. The front and side yards are raked and the flower beds tidied.
Those were child's play, my friends. Child's play compared to...
THE BACKYARD OF DOOM AND POOP.
Those of you with dogs know exactly what I mean. The rest of you, trust me. It was bad. But I put my big girl pants on and tackled that wasteland over two days. When the wind blew I had to hold my breath and shut my eyes. But, I DID IT. I will not subject you to a before (no one needs that), but here is a mid-way:
No, that's not your computer making all wacky with the colors. That's my ghetto backyard. I do have plans for it someday -- a nice shade garden with a small stone patio and a bench or possibly a couple of chairs, and vegetable beds where I stood to take that shot. The fence, which was no great shakes when we bought the place, was partially plowed down last winter (thanks, neighbors' Plow Guy!). That's top job on the yard rehab list.
Anyway, even though I finished, I'm not done. Despite temps hitting the 60s (in Vermont! in March!), we STILL have snow. Dirty, filthy, possibly toxic snow covering more contaminated ground.
That beast there with the sheepish look on his face is Blue, co-creator of the wasteland. Audrey, the aged mutt, had the decency to make herself scarce.
But the snowless parts are toxic no more. Not ten minutes after I finished my unspeakable chore, wildlife returned to the land.
Martha. She even rolled in the grass, she was so pleased with the change.
Oh, and did I mention I've been baking?
I think I'm turning into Ma Ingalls. If you see me wearing an apron and tittering "Oh, Charles!", send help.