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It was love at first sight. Several years passed before honeymoon magic faded and the long-term relationship began to weigh on us. A ninth anniversary this fall demonstrates our commitment to "better and worse."
The expansive mountain and valley view explains the first-sight love. It also obstructed the view of any flaws in our new home. "The Ridge" subdivision was built on a glacial moraine. A veneer of sod lies precariously atop its rocky base like a toupee on a balding head. Water drains instantly, before thirsty roots can grab a sip. There is no natural topsoil to nurture the lawn. Ridgetop winds sow dandelion seeds and sunlight makes them grow. Our neighborhood covenants set the standard in conventional terms: a green, healthy, manicured weed-free lawn.
"For better or worse" in our love of home cycles with the seasons. Spring is for worse, as life conquers winter. Weeds must be pulled. Grass mown. Sprinkler system maintained. Beds must mulched. Shrubs pruned. When summer ages into fall, the frenzy subsides. We breathe. We may even take some days off to play. Winter is for better with a clean blanket of snow and a more relaxed pace.
It feels ungrateful to greet summer as "worse." I love to shed extra clothing, enjoy outdoor concerts, hike on snow-free trails, and luxuriate in the natural beauty of wildflowers scattered across green hillside meadows. I enjoy ice-free travel and food from farmers markets. But I struggle with the growing season in our own yard. It takes more time and yields fewer rewards than I wish it did.
I crave a weed-free lawn, a play-filled summer, and a trouble-free life. But I can't have them because life is always a mosaic of blessings and curses. As in a long and committed relationship, better and worse are part of the deal.
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What are the weeds in the lawn of your life? How do you deal with them?
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