Moving to the suburbs from the hurry-up and high-crime lifestyle of Chicago, I knew it was going to take a few months to adjust to a slower pace of life. And roads without potholes.
However, it only took eight days to find out my new-house nemesis:The hedges.
Sure, they looked nice enough when we visited the Orland Park house in March with our real estate agent, and again on a follow-up before closing. They gave the entry charm, and personality, and made it feel like someone was rolling out the red carpet for us. It was one of the signature elements we were looking for.
But after a few weeks I’ve discovered they’re pretty much evil, like something that a Disney villain would conjure up to protect their lair. They’re purple, prickly, parallel-running porcupines that line my driveway and pack a punch to any purveyor of a pristine pathway.
Too many P-words for one sentence? Sure, but its a lot more pleasant than the other words I let fly when I tried to tame the hedges.
Now, I knew yard work was going to be a chore I was going to adopt after buying a house, and after six years of living in a crowded 16-unit apartment building, I was actually looking forward to it. When I was a kid my allowance was tied to lawn care so I knew to stay on top of mowing, trimming and watering the lawn. It was my gateway to $10 a week and the baseball cards it could buy. Even as I grew to be a teenager with an eye toward college, I always savored the satisfaction of leaving behind a well-manicured carpet of green each time I put the mower away.
But I didn’t count on tackling twin beasts like this when we closed on the house. Geez.
It’s almost as if the hedges are a dirty little secret from the previous owners. My wife and I met them at the closing and they’re nice people. Really nice. I’d even call them fast friends. They were attentive and helpful describing their investment in the house and how they handled its upkeep. They even left behind a dining room set for us. But it’s clear to me after two trips around the yard with the mower they might be high-fiving each other. They don’t have to deal with those thorny beasts anymore.
Armed with a new pair of gloves, I was all set to do battle with the hedges and begin my quest of maintaining a yard the neighbors would be envious of. That’s when I discovered there was a surprise lurking underneath the bottom branches.
It appears the hedges were not only a nuisance, but a hiding place for what I loathed the most about yard work. Leaves. Raking leaves was the one task I told my wife I was wanted to avoid as much as possible, and our square-ish lot reflects it. We have only one tree on our property and it lies at the front of the driveway hovering over the mailbox.
And this wasn’t just a few leaves that escaped the rake. Nope. Buried under the hedges was a thick blanket of dead foliage from seasons past. We’re talking thousands of leaves. It was almost as if someone stashed them there to avoid them, or hide them, like when children “clean” their rooms by shoving toys in the closet or under the bed.
I suppose most people who buy a house have a story about an undiscovered repair that surfaces after the ink dries on the loan paperwork. A friend of mine recently told me his house lacked heating ductwork to a bedroom. Another found dated electrical work that needs to be replaced. The thorny shrubs fits the bill for me. I guess that makes me Seymour and the hedges Audrey in a twisted suburban version of the “Little Shop of Horrors.”
Sarcasm aside, caring for the hedges and the yard is something I’m looking forward to. It means I have such things. After years with little room to spare for a potted plant, I’m grateful to be able to spread out and plant roots. So aside from skin abrasions and a few lost tempers, its great to have patch of earth to call my own.
It took a couple of hours over several days to get the yard and driveway hedges in decent shape and realize just how fast a yard waste bin can fill up. To toast my victory I enjoyed a cold ginger ale from the fridge, a treat that always tasted great after ajob was complete as a kid and still does as a 40-something.
Then it hit me.
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Now, I have to figure out how to trim the hedges. Sigh. Cue the bell, round two is set to begin.
Steve Zimmerman is a copy editor/designer for the baiduhai who moved to the south suburbs from Chicago’s northwest side in May.