Rye Grass Seed

I worked hard to make our view of the back yard pretty – bushes, gardens, and a gracefully curved border. I called the landscaper who cuts our grass, and who had obviously been observing my progress, to ask if he could create a sharp, clean edge in the grass along my beautiful border. He said (rather sarcastically, I thought), “Your garden is the least of your problems. You have no grass.” He was right. You could turn your ankle on the brown, bumpy yard.

After a few weeks of trying to fix it myself, I called Adam (the very frank landscaper) and asked him to come till up the back yard and plant some grass. He said his method was to aerate it, not till it. I said I didn’t want it aerated because that wouldn’t chop it up enough. He said he’d rent a tiller.

I called to see if he had rented the tiller yet. Not yet. I called again. Not yet. I called again and he said he was going to aerate it, not till it. He waited for me to say something like, “Oh, that will be just wonderful.” Then he informed me that he had planted hundreds of yards successfully. He even guaranteed that I would have a thick mass of grass in about three weeks. Uh huh.

The big day arrived. Adam saw pink painted lines all over the place. “What’s this?” he gasped. My husband rolled his eyes. I explained my plan. I was moving the borders of my natural area since grass won’t grow in the shade. He said this grass would grow in the shade. Uh huh.

Adam aerated the heck out of that yard. He answered my questions about planting bushes. He even dug holes for five bushes for me. My husband George watched all of this. Pretty soon he grinned at Adam and said, “You’re a good man.”

Our lawn is now the thickest and greenest I’ve ever seen. Adam was right. Pass the crow, please.