It was perfect timing for the drought.
Our front lawn has been in sorry shape for a while now.
We’ve needed new grass and fresh plants, but we’ve been lazy.
Except the other day, Pedro a Hispanic gardener came by and sold Alf on the idea of spreading grass seed all over our patchy lawn. He mixed it in with mulch and spread it everywhere.
The front of the house looks like a blighted patch of earth.
“Water it a little bit every morning,” Pedro said.
That was a month ago.
The blight continues.
We haven’t seen Pedro again.
Every morning Alf goes out to see if green is poking through.
“I see a bit this morning,” he said coming back into the house.
“Are you sure it’s not just the shadows of the bushes?” I said.
We send Calvin out to determine the true status of things.
He runs around sniffing the edges, sticking his nose in mulch, kicking up dirt.
“Pee here,” I say pointing to areas that need water badly.
“No! It’ll kill the seed,”Alf said.
Calvin’s too quick. He dashes from spot to spot leaving his calling card everywhere. We shoo him back into the house, but not before he gives us a toothy grin.