Some people have no idea what they’re doing, and a lot of them are really good at it.
- George Carlin
It was a grey, dreary morning in mid-February when Erin and I looked at our backyard and realized no grass was was to be found. Anywhere. All that was visible was the moss that had assimilated everything and left a grimy-looking green carpet in its wake. Granted, the backyard’s never been a sod showcase; a thick, leafy canopy which shelters most of it from the sun, so the grass has never really thrived.
Over the past couple of years, we’d talked about doing something different. We’d tossed ideas around but stopped short of making any concrete decisions. That required planning, time, a LOT of work, and money- lots of money…or so we’d thought. Looking at the moss on that damp, dreary morning, we decided the time had come to blow it up and start over. Besides, I needed a place to put (what I hope will be) my latest acquisition.
After tossing around a few ideas, we drew up a plan on the back of a scrap of paper…and one rainy day at the beginning of April I set to digging and began by creating a large mud pit. This being spring in Oregon, it rained. Quite a lot, actually. It rained almost every day I was working in the backyard, but after I was wet, sweaty, and muddy, it didn’t really matter. I wasn’t about to let weather stop me, so I worked in everything from sunshine to drizzle to monsoon. It was worth it.
I started with absolutely NO idea about what I needed to do…and even less experience; turns out I’m a fast learner.
First there was the stone for a retaining wall- 3083 lbs. of basalt. I know this because I moved every last miserable ounce into place. The stones went from the retailer into the back of my car. Once I got them home, they came out of my car, into a wheelbarrow and then into the backyard, where I wrestled each stone into its final resting place…after much trial and error. In the rain and mud. Finishing the wall was a relief, because I knew it was the worst and hardest part of the project. When the last stone was set in place, I was sore in places I’d forgotten I even had muscles (I still am). Yes, the worst was over, but the heavy lifting was only just beginning.
Next came laying the brick borders…brick…by brick…by &$^#*)@!#&$% brick. Since I know less than nothing about how to properly lay bricks, I learned the hard way, which means putting them down, realizing they looked like crap, picking them up, and starting all over again. When you’re working with 200 bricks, that’s neither a small nor speedy task.
Then there’s all the dirt/mud I moved to level off the half of the backyard that slopes toward the street. I’ve recontoured the area twice, and while it’s still not level, it’s a certainly better than it was. I went over it with a rented gas-powered soil compactor twice. I finally had to admit that it was about as good as it was going to get and anything else bordered on obsessive.
I also learned the hard way that combustion engines don’t cool off immediately after you shut them off. The first time I used a soil compactor, I shut it off, picked it up, and as I was trying to load into my car, it brushed again my stomach, leaving me with a nice little second-degree burn that melted part of the shirt I was wearing. Four-plus weeks later, I have what looks as if it may be a permanent memento of my lack of caution.
Duh….
Next came five cubic yards of river sand the sand to level out the patio area for the pavers we laid down, four cubic yards of bark dust for a path, and 46.5 cu. ft. of Mexican pea pebbles for the reading area and the patio border. Then there was the fertilizer and shade-tolerant grass seed, though moving those required comparatively little effort.
Oh…did I mention that I had no idea what I was doing?
The goal we settled on was to have everything done and ready to show off by Memorial Day weekend…and we made it. Tuesday afternoon, I put the finishing touches on it. Sure, there are a couple minor things we’re leaving for next week, but for all intents and purposes, it’s done. The grass has yet to grow in completely (it looks not unlike Patrick Stewart after overdosing on Rogaine), but that will come with time.
I could have asked for help, and several friends offered themselves up. I decided early on that I wanted to be able to look at the finished project and know that I did it myself. Not completely by myself, of course; Erin’s helped when she’s had time, and she arranged the pavers, but the heavy lifting and the hard physical labor has been mine. Because of this, I’ve been tired and sore for the past six weeks; some days it’s been a challenge to get out of bed. So much of me hurts that it would be easier and less time-consuming to tell you what doesn’t hurt. Now I finally get to let my body heal…and I need it. I’m not 25 any more.
As I moved farther along with this project, an odd thing happened. I’ve never been one for yard work (I’ve always hated it fiercely), but I found myself looking at books and websites, learning about different types of projects. F’rinstance, I never knew that an old tire could be repurposed as a planter…or that shipping pallets could be disassembled and used to build yard furniture. I ended up not using those ideas, but I was surprised at the variety of things that could be done quite simply. My largest obsession became building a fire pit:
Maybe we can use it to sacrifice a virgin.
I took down a dead tree at the side of the house and used the fire pit to burn the branches that I would have had to find a way to cram into an already full compost bin. Being a guy, I like to burn things; now have the means and the facility with which to do it safely.
Part of the impetus for me delving into this project with such intensity is that I moved into Erin’s house. She’s lived here for 12 or 13 years; I moved in 3 years ago. I love our home, but I don’t have nearly the emotional investment in it that Erin does. Now that I’ve finished this project, I can look at our backyard and know that I did the vast majority of the work. It’s something I now have a considerable emotional (and physical) investment in. That’s feels pretty good. This wouldn’t have happened without the considerable sweat and hours of work I put in, and I’m proud of that.
I’ve never been much of a handyman, despite my father’s best efforts to teach me. Even in high school shop class, whenever I built something that didn’t turn out (which was pretty much everything), I’d put two grooves in it and call it an ashtray. Now I’ve managed to build something that goes far beyond anything I’ve ever attempted (much less succeeded at) before.
We’ve looked forward to having a backyard we can enjoy, and now we do. Tonight we’re having a party to show it off and celebrate the beginning of summer. I suspect I’ll be fully involved in what I call the “Rose Garden effect”. When the Trail Blazers built their new arena in the mid-90s, they were still bolting in seat 45 minutes before game time on Opening Night. I could easily be doing the same thing, obsessing over every last detail. We’re not totally, completely, 100% finished, but we’re certainly close enough to show it off.
Never having undertaken (much less completed) a project of this nature, I’m pretty proud to have finished it without A) enduring a complete disaster like turning the backyard into a massive sinkhole and B) not suffering a major injury (though not from lack of trying). I can look at our backyard and think, “I built that.” Because I did…and that feels pretty awesome. I’m proud to have created something I have a sizable emotional investment in. Not that this house isn’t home, but now it feels that much more so.
Best of all, we did it all for $1653. Not bad.
More than anything, I’m excited to be done, because now I can start to heal. After being sore for more than six weeks, I’d like to be able to move freely again without every step or movement being accompanied by groans and grimaces. I may not be 24, but I shouldn’t have to move like I’m 84.
