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 I
don’t know about the rest of you, but it seems to me that I spend an awful lot
of my spare time on the weekends working on my yard. Now, let me say that not
all of this is bad, just some of it. For example, we have a big yard with lots
of grass. Now to keep that up, you have to weed and feed several times a year to
encourage growth so that when you get the growth, you can mow the growth down to
make room for more growth. I think that’s about right, isn’t it?
We’re going to spend money on a
product (fertilizer) to make something (grass) grow better so that I can cut it
(mow) down in the few spare hours away from work that I have each week. Step
back and look at that thought for a moment. Sane people shouldn’t be doing
this, should they? Well anyway, it’s to make the place look nicer and you have
to do it because your neighbor does it because his neighbor does it because his
neighbor…….I’d like to find the original guy who started mowing in the
first place. It probably was the inventor of the first mower, if truth be
known.
Anyway, this past week or so, I’ve
really been out there humping it since my wife bought an arbor from some
catalog. It seems when you move into a house your name automatically gets added
to about 2,000 lawn and garden companies who start sending out information on
composting and bulb planting within 48 hours of your getting moved into the
place. As far as I can see, the nursery industry must rank about 2nd
in the number of employees in this country, right behind the federal government.
Well, she shows me this picture of the arbor in the catalog, and it looks ok. It
stands about 9 feet tall and would be good for some climbing roses that I’d
like to train.
All is well up until the day the
thing arrives. The first indication that you’re in trouble is when something
that is 9 feet tall (assembled) arrives in a box about 2 ½ foot tall and 1 ½
inches wide. Obviously this thing is meant to be assembled by the end user,
which in this case is me. A sudden sense of dread starts to overtake me as I
start to experience the same sort of fear that we did on Christmas Eve while
trying to assemble bicycles without directions. In this case, the directions are
written in some unknown language and the drawings look like something for some
type of nuclear device. There isn’t one part in this box (except for the
screws) that I recognize in this set of instructions.
At first I think maybe they have
screwed up and sent me some secret plans and maybe I should contact the FBI or
someone. "Hello, this is Peary Perry, and I’m trying to assemble a rose
arbor and the plans look like they might be for some sort of atomic bomb or
something…could you send someone out? Well, one of two things will happen
…first nothing, since they think I’m some kind of nut case. Or second, the
house will be surrounded by swat teams, media and attorneys trying to defend me
and get the rights to the book and movie. Deciding that making this call isn’t
in my best interests, I do what any reasonable man must do in times like
these.
I sit on a stool and drink a beer.
After a few minutes the images on the sheet start to resemble some of the pieces
on the floor of the garage. After another beer, the plan starts to look vaguely
like the arbor in the picture that’s in the catalog. An idea emerges. Once I
count all of the parts then I can identify what they are by the number of
pieces. I have 18 somethings……so I look on the parts list and sure
enough…..I have 18 clamps. Way to go. Now I count the number of pieces of
tubing and I get 24….yep, sure enough; there are 24 parts to the four legs of
this thing. Now, it’s starting to look like something that we can live with. I
decide that this isn’t a one-day job, so I leave it, in order to ponder the
rest of the instructions. I take on the philosophy of Zen thinking by showing
great patience and contemplation of the forthcoming project. Also, I am very
tired and I have a headache.
Must be the heat. In only another 3
or 4 days I should have the entire thing up and ready to install. After several
day, I do manage to get it erected and in place. Since this is a family
publication, the only word to describe it is …bad. We proceed to tear it down
and put it off in a part of the yard where nobody ever goes. It’ll be safe out
there. I’ll haul it out to the street for the trash guys to take off, but I
don’t want them laughing at me anymore than they do already. Then I make the
mistake of suggesting that we stop in a local garden store for some spray to
keep the deer from eating the plants.
As fate or bad luck, (your call)
would have it; this store has assembled wooden arbors like we wanted in the
first place. There isn’t any need to write anything further is there? Now once
these get delivered, I can get back to the real work of mowing the yard. You
wonder if cavemen had to do this stuff? I’ll bet not, I bet they just left
everything natural. Come to think of it…maybe I’ll consider that as well.
Once I get finished with the arbors. Wait, then I have to redo the roses. Then
replant the back beds with something the deer won’t eat…like plastic. Now,
there’s an idea. Never needs pruning or feeding…. I’ll look into that and
get back to you. If you have any handy gardening tips…..Keep them to yourself.
Send other stuff to me at www.pearyperry.com.
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