Packing a Machete and Buckets Full of Naked Ladies

Even though Mr. W and I have owned our new house for a year, we're still getting a grip on all the "gear" we need to successfully live here. Back in Hollywood, city-living gear included things like fuel-efficient cars, deadbolts, and hiking shorts with enough pockets for your keys, phone, and sometimes sunscreen. The musts in our new parts are a tad different.

This weekend, we added a rototiller and machete to our arsenal of country-living equipment.

The women working at Home Depot didn't even know what Mr. W was talking about when he told them he wanted to buy the discounted rototiller in front of the store. And when the checkout guy at OSH scanned the machete, he laughed and said, "Who're you guys killing this weekend?" Apparently even though the new gear seems customary for these parts, it's not...

I look forward to seeing Mr. W in action with his Crocodile Dundee weapon. I think he'll need a special hat to complete the ensemble. Here he is rototilling the side yard where we plan to create a raised bed garden at some point in the near future.

Mr. W was covered in dust after this but I think he had fun playing with his new toy.

Last week, I received another crucial item for our new circumstances: Garden boots. Flip flops just leave your feet way too dirty and although sneakers work pretty well, I figured these would be handy in the winter when things get wet and muddy. They also offer greater protection against lizards or giant spiders that decide to run across my feet while I'm weeding.

Yes I got polka-dotted boots. Just because a girl is getting
dirty doesn't mean she can't look cute doing it.

Speaking of weeding, while I was sweating away in the front yard Monday, our neighbors drove up in their golf cart (bearing fresh melons from their garden—gotta love that) and taught me that the bulbs I keep finding all over the yard are called Naked Ladies.

The worst looking naked ladies I've ever seen...

Seriously, these bulbs are the bane of my existence. They multiply like ants on a candy bar and are such a pain in the ass to dig up. Why not leave them alone, you ask? Because the plants they produce die off when the weather is warm and leave mounds upon mounds of scraggly, dried up leaves everywhere. So I've been digging up hundreds of them since the spring.

Our green waste bin has been filled to the brim pretty much every weekend
since we bought the house. It was a delight to fill it with the lady bulbs.

Amidst the garden tools we brought up from Hollywood, I discovered a little handheld pickaxe and after using it to pluck a bunch of these babies from the dirt, I literally said aloud, "Pickaxe, where have you been all my life?!" Country gear. It's the best.

I think we'll probably be working on our property until the day we die. Or perhaps become bedridden from straining too much in the garden, but it's not a bad backdrop for such hard work.

Midcentury rambler, how I love you so. Maybe not your old driveway, but the rest
of you for sure.

Please disregard the dead grass in the corner. I'm still mastering the sprinkler situation.

Fuchsias were my favorite flowers when I was a little girl. I think I called them
"fairy flowers." They kind of look like little dancing fairies, don't they?

I'm sure I'll be posting a bajillion more pictures and stories about our transformations to the yards. We have many dirty days ahead of us. Hopefully no one loses any limbs under the swipe of the machete...

For another perspective on gardening, hop over to The Path to Wonderful and check out my latest post.