photo © Nicki Ault, 2016
It's been sixteen years and the anticipation is over. My front yard finally has curb appeal! I have had a love-hate relationship with my yard since day one. In fact, over the last sixteen years it actually became more of a hate-hate relationship. Finally, this fine September, it was time. On Monday, bright and early, City Gardens swooped in and set out to make my dreams come true. They scraped away the sunken lawn, the crumbling concrete path, the non-functioning sprinklers and the thriving crop of weeds. A clean slate was what I requested and they delivered.
This was a different type of creative work for me; I am far from a landscape designer but I had a vision in my mind and it never wavered. My house is a one hundred year old character home and for all of its peaks and angles it deserved a curvy, maybe even sexy, front yard. However, it is not a large space, so I still had to keep it simple. My original concrete path was slightly over two feet wide- a ridiculous width given the hedge on one side and the snowbank on the other side for six months of the year. That was the first and most crucial change.
before © Nicki Ault, 2016
I now have a wide, curving path of gorgeous Roman paving stones; slightly over four feet at its narrowest. Swoon. No longer will I snag my grocery bags on the hedge as I try to shimmy myself to the front door.
after © Nicki Ault, 2016
The rest of the yard is finished with a curving brick divider between the new lawn and the garden... I actually now have a hydrangea plant, a little weeping spruce tree and shrubs. I feel so grown up!
after © Nicki Ault, 2016
I thought I was finally going to get to the studio after months of absence, but the landscaping kept me home for three days. The City Gardens guys (who were fantastic by the way) seemed to have a good grasp of my crudely drawn vision, but I wanted to be involved in laying out the curve of the path and stone border, so it was exactly "right". I won't admit to micro-managing, but I certainly spent a bit of time hovering. Once the job was complete at the end of the afternoon on Wednesday I realized that Thursday and Friday could finally be days at the studio!... That is until my son said his throat was feeling really sore at bedtime. My heart sunk as visions of me painting at the studio quickly began to fade. In a sad and pathetic effort to keep my hope alive I said desperately, "Well, maybe you just strained it at football practice".
???
As soon as the words were uttered, and I heard the ridiculousness of the statement, I knew it was over. He was getting sick. His throat was not strained from playing football- I am pretty sure that is not even a thing. A hamstring, yes, a throat, no.
So a bit more time passes, but I will get there- blank canvases and new supplies await. Sunday is my goal and that is already tomorrow. The hope is returning.
???
As soon as the words were uttered, and I heard the ridiculousness of the statement, I knew it was over. He was getting sick. His throat was not strained from playing football- I am pretty sure that is not even a thing. A hamstring, yes, a throat, no.
So a bit more time passes, but I will get there- blank canvases and new supplies await. Sunday is my goal and that is already tomorrow. The hope is returning.
