Yep, it is my backyard grass patch. It is a pit because the grass seems to find it a real struggle to survive and thrive in the face of the clay comprising the bulk of the dirt in my yard. It is the pits because of the amount of money I throw at the yard every year, or rather throw money at folks who have better backs and hips to help me make the yard presentable, at least to me. The fact is there are few neighbors who might appreciate the healthy condition of the “back forty” beyond me and sometimes BJ. Yeah, I appreciate it.

When we moved here from Kansas City fifteen years ago, the previous owners of our home left a lawn mower to use as I mowed the hay on the somewhat of a slope to the yard. Unfortunately, the mower’s engine drove the cutting blade only so I only tolerated the machine for about six uses before trading it in and purchasing a self-propelled unit from the good folks at Olympic Equipment Rentals. It was great and gave me an opportunity to mow and then I did the requisite annual aeration with an aerator from, yep, you guessed it, Olympic Equipment Rentals. I also bought the lime, fertilizer, rakes, compost, etc., and mostly applied it according recommendations from the neighbors or Hadlock Building Supply.

Unfortunately, the recent weekend of nice weather caused the wild weeds to grow with reckless abandon and I needed to take some action.

After several years of attempting to bring the yard up to the standards I envisioned the neighbors had for it, accompanied by enduring, increasing pain in my hips and back, I sold the mower to a yard servicing company. BJ and I hemmed and hawed about the increased expense we would and did incur every year from the annual aeration to the weekly mowing but finally came down on the side of saving my body. In retrospect, that appears to be a failed project but I do know we pay people to regenerate the patch in the back almost every year, most recently just last week. I’ll send pictures when it turns green.

Six years ago, BJ and I celebrated our fiftieth wedding anniversary. (That was your math problem this week.) For this year’s event our son and daughter-in-law bought us a dinner at “Ristorante Machiavelli” Italian restaurant in Edmonds. The restaurant used to be on Capitol Hill in Seattle, but recently deserted the city and took over the “ferry convenient” space previously occupied by “Chanterelle” in Edmonds.  We had a nice meal and enjoyed their company but it was not quite the soiree we had at the Inn at Port Ludlow six years ago! Nor was it as expensive. Just think of the lawn work I could have bought with that money.

“March Madness” is upon us with all of its joy and tragedy in both men’s and women’s NCAA tournament basketball games. At this writing the good news is that the Duke men’s team made the “Elite Eight” and the University of Kansas lost. Gonzaga took the “Jayhawks” out and generated happiness in my household. Unfortunately, the “Zags” met the giant Purdue player, Zach Edey, in the next game. I know there are other fans around who will be happy when Duke loses, but until then, go “Blue Devils!” Our fifteen-year-old grandson gets our family of ten to fill out at least one bracket each picking the winners for all the games in the tournament. As of Saturday morning, I was desperately holding on to fifth place. So much for my game prediction acumen.

Keep me away from the sports betting opportunities in Las Vegas unless it involves Caitlin Clark and the University of Iowa women’s team. I suspect I would have to go back to mowing my own lawn.

Love a curmudgeon and install fake grass!

ned@ptleader.com