No plant coddler, I

Over the last few weeks, there have been warnings in the media, about tender spring plants that might not survive a cold snap.

Likewise, I have heard numerous people talking about how they’re covering plants, or bringing them in, to protect them from the cold.

I’ve also heard many of those same people talking about how they are now bringing their plants back out, since it appears that the days of plant-killing freezes are over. I’ve heard a couple talk about how much work it has all been. And I’m sure that if the jet stream or whatever has been doing this decides to act up again, they – and their families – will be dragging their plants back in. Again.

Would anyone care to guess what yours truly has been doing during all this time? That’s right. Nothing other than sitting and listening to folks carrying on about all the labor involved. Oh, I’ve gone out and mowed when necessary– not for a manicured lawn but to keep officialdom at bay – But I have not covered, or carried, a single plant.

I know there are a lot of people in this part of the country who for reasons of their own aren’t terribly fond of Charles Darwin or his theories. However, when it comes to yard work, I find myself a believer in one of the theories to come from his research: Survival of the fittest.

If a plant can’t take a little nippy weather, or weather that’s too hot, or too dry, what’s it doing around here, anyway? I remember a time years ago, when one could ride along Newcastle Road and see nothing but peach boxes. Mother Nature took care of that.

And if a plant is that delicate, what’s it doing in my yard? Why would I want it in my yard?

This winter and spring so far, we’ve had snow and freezing weather, and even late freezes.

And when I looked at my yard right before mowing it this last time, what did I see? Did I see the ravaged remains of plants that simply could not stand up to the weather. Well, not really.

What I saw was a bunch of clover blooming. I also saw a few dandelions – yes, dandelions, big hairy deal. Since I’m no botanist, I’m sure there are all manner of other hardy plants in my yard, most of them looked down upon and considered weeds by the lawn connoisseurs.

But they aren’t weeds to me. To me, they’re the tough, worthy survivors, the ones that didn’t need to be petted and coddled. The ones that could take it. The ones that didn’t need to be carried indoors the minute the weather threatened – can you imagine carrying a dandelion indoors to keep it safe?

Of course, there are those who will take care of all that stuff for you. If you wish, they’ll weed and fertilize and mow and trim until your yard looks like the 18th hole at Augusta National. There’s just one little problem. They don’t do this for free. They expect to be paid for their work.

And since I don’t know anyone who loves yard work so much they’d gladly come over and do my yard free just for the sheer joy of doing it (or even be willing to pay me to let them do it), I just do what I have to do. My price is perfect.

Oh, I know there are some things worth planting around the house which may take a little care. Tomatoes come to mind. But I have a notoriously brown thumb. Even when I’ve tried to grow things, it hasn’t worked (The Baby Sister, on the other hand, can take a seed and plant it in a little hole she dug with her finger, and get results).

And speaking of tomatoes, since the subject came up, uh, well, it’s a known fact that most folks who plant tomatoes end up with more than they can eat. And being the unselfish kind of person I am, who always likes to help out, I would be glad to take some vine-ripe ‘maters off someone’s hand. Out of the goodness of my heart, you understand. Waste not, want not, and all that good stuff.

But back to the subject at hand. I will mow my weeds when necessary; and it was necessary this past Monday. I may spray some, but only in places I can’t reach with the mower. I steadfastly refuse to fertilize.

I suppose warm weather is here to stay, so folks won’t be having to haul their plants back inside. Of course, they may end up having to water their lawns if it gets dry this summer – something else I refuse to do. The stuff in my yard will spring back. It always does, whether I want it to or not.

I will continue to hold high the banner of AGHAST (All Grass Haters Adamantly Shirking Toil).

(EDITOR’S NOTE: David Nichol is a freelance writer who retired from the Times-Herald. He can be contacted at nicholdb@cablelynx.com.)