• Lawn Care Craziness (Or in Spring, Anything Seems Possible)

    I have never cared deeply about having a perfect velvety green lawn. Or rooting out dandelions, creeping charlie, and crabgrass. And yet, lately I’ve been trying to rehabilitate my lawn.

    My neighbors care even less than I do, so creeping charlie crept over from one neighbor and dandelions blew in from the other neighbor. Crabgrass sensed an opportunity and launched its own attack. After only one inattentive year, our yard became The Bad Example. Clearly, its sorry state doesn’t bother my neighbors, but it does bother me.

    I’ve invested a lot of time creating and cultivating flower gardens, so having a ratty weed-choked lawn seems incongruous.

    Creeping charlie is the worst. I can live with it around the perimeter. But I thought it would be nice to have some actual grass in the main part of the lawn. Being organically minded, I didn’t want to nuke the yard with chemicals that would kill the weeds but poison the butterflies, bees, and birds I’m trying attract.

    I read up. Several websites suggested covering the offending patch with cardboard and plastic in the fall. The heat and lack of light would kill the weeds and then I could rake them off in the spring. We tried it and all that did was kill the grass. The creeping charlie was alive and well. Sigh.

    So then I began digging it up. A s l o o o w w w process. Until The Perfect Husband got involved. Boom. Done. Except for the oh-so-tedious process of knocking the soil off the dead weeds so the city would agree to take them as yard waste.

    We reseeded. Lush grass is due to sprout any day. 

    Meanwhile, all those dandelions I dug up last year are back and showing me who’s boss.

    This focus on lawn care may be a fool’s errand. But hey, it’s spring. Anything’s possible.

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    11 responses to “Lawn Care Craziness (Or in Spring, Anything Seems Possible)”

    1. Ann Coleman Avatar

      We fight with creeping charlie every single year! That stuff is so hardy, I wish it actually was grass. And like you, I don’t want to use harsh chemicals to get rid of it. Let me know how your lawn turns out…I’m always open to a few tips for mine!

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

        My life would be easier if I just decided creeping charlie IS what a I want. Stay tuned!

    2. Susanne Avatar

      I’m all in favour of stones instead of grass or turning the whole yard into an English cottage garden.

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

        That could be next — I have limited patience for grass tending!

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

        Thanks for the link. I started using corn gluten last fall, but have read that it may take a few years. I’m willing to give it 3 years. If it’s not better after that, I’m going to go with the flow and declare, “Viva the Weeds!”

    3. Pamela Avatar
      Pamela

      When we were going to put our Wisconsin house up for sale, we were encouraged to spray for dandelions and Charlie (which I actually liked!). It broke my heart to use the spray, but I did it, and the weeds left. Here in AZ, dandelions are not seen as the enemy; in fact, they are tolerated. But I’m out every day for at least an hour weeding these plants that attract aphids. The only way to get rid of them and not kill the “good” plants is to do it by hand. And of course, our “soil” out back is bark and sand. Pulling is good therapy sometimes, and instantly gratifying. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to dump gravel over it all…

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

        AZ has its own landscaping challenges (and snakes!) I’m willing to do this little lawn care experiment for a while. Currently, grass and clover is sprouting. Stay tuned!

    4. bbachel Avatar
      bbachel

      Thanks for your optimism. Perhaps it will inspire me to get out and tackle my long untended backyard.

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

        Maybe you want to wait to see how my yard turns out!

  • Lock Your Car

    October 2008

    I’m a Police Reserve Officer for the city of Richfield.

    Is that why, I want to shout, “No, Don’t Leave Your Wallet There!” to the lady who has her billfold sitting on the ledge in the coffee shop. Anybody could open the door, grab her billfold, and be gone.

    Or, is it because I’ve stolen before?

    In my teens, I did a number of things that I am not proud of. At one point, taking blank checks from my parent’s checkbook, signing their name, and then retrieving the cancelled checks from the mailbox. Our life was so chaotic that I got away with it for … awhile.

    I want to holler to the woman who is walking to the shower at the YMCA, “NO, don’t leave your iPod sitting on your gym bag. Cover it!”

    While still a teen, I opened the back of a car, once, and took the person’s groceries. Not because I was hungry but because it was there and because I could.

    I often tell Juan Jose’ and Crystel to care for their belongings, that they could be stolen.

    Soon after getting her phone, Crystel left it at our table in the restaurant, while we helped ourselves at the buffet. It wasn’t until we were walking to the car that she realized that it was gone. I saw her startled face. She was stricken. I pulled her phone out of my pocket. Told her that as far as a thief was concerned she had just laid $500 on the table and put a sign out that said, Take Me, when she walked away from the table.

    Jody, Coach Marty, Beth

    When I first put on a Police Reserve jacket ten years ago, it felt very comfortable. After a moment, I realized why. I had stolen a similar jacket from a river bar when I was seventeen. The bar had live music, dancing, and it was sticky hot. People piled their jackets in a corner. I eyed the pile, picked out a dark blue jacket that I thought might fit me and walked out of the bar. I wore that jacket for a couple of years.

    Sunday evening, I was helping Scouts with their personal fitness badge. A billfold and phone were laying in a pile amongst papers and pencils on the ground. “Someone is going to stay here, with their stuff, right?” I asked. The Scouts had walked across the street to a park to run a mile. Still, I was nervous. I reached down and put the billfold and phone in my pocket for safekeeping.

    This morning I got a text from our neighbor: FYI: someone rifled through my vehicle (on my driveway) last night. It was unlocked. I think only took some cash. I reported to police. They said at least 5 people from Morgan to Logan area reported the same thing.

    I’ve sat in many police reserve trainings, and we discuss car break-ins. We provide a Theft from Auto Prevention Program by conducting a risk survey of unoccupied vehicles, in hopes that drivers will think about what they are leaving behind in their unlocked car. We tuck the result of our inspection under windshield wipers.

    I text her back: It happened to us as well. Too embarrassed to report. Jody and I are Police Reserve Officers.

    I also use my past as an example that people make mistakes and can change.

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    4 responses to “Lock Your Car”

    1. Ann Coleman Avatar

      Sometimes there are distinct advantages to not always living a life by the rules. It helps us understand how others might think, and how we need to protect ourselves and our possessions. And I also like the way your story proves that people can change!

      1. Elizabeth di Grazia Avatar
        Elizabeth di Grazia

        Thank you, Ann. I often share my past with my children in hopes that they choose different from what I did growing up.

    2. Karen Avatar
      Karen

      Wonderful article. I too have ghosts from my younger years for which I’m not proud. It has taken me a long time to forgive myself and yes, the best use of those examples is to teach others that people can change. Well written as always! Thank you!

      1. Elizabeth di Grazia Avatar
        Elizabeth di Grazia

        Karen, I still cringe from time to time in regards to my choices. So happy to be living differently.

  • Why March?

    I’m as surprised as anybody that I’ve begun marching in support of causes I care about. I have never been an activist. For years, I was quietly passionate about my politics and causes – emphasis on quietly. I spoke about them among friends, sent letters and checks, but that was it.

    Signs at Women’s March – MN

    My upbringing discouraged political activism.

    I was 12 in 1967 when race rioting began in Detroit and Toledo, my hometown. My father was a fire chief and reported that rioters were throwing rocks and bottles at firefighters. He was angry and I was scared. Although I didn’t agree with the violence, looting and burning, the civil rights movement made me aware that blacks were often treated unfairly, which might prompt them to anger and rioting. Despite that insight, at 12 years old, I was more worried about my father’s safety than anything else.

    I was 15 on May 4, 1970, when, after days of Vietnam War protests, four students were killed and nine were wounded by National Guardsmen at Kent State University several hours from my home. As a WWII veteran, my father disagreed with the war protests, and at dinner on the evening of the shootings, he denounced the campus lawlessness. My mother staunchly agreed with him. My college-age brother and younger sister didn’t comment. I was in sympathy with the protesters, but kept silent.

    My primary impression of protests and marches was that they could easily turn violent—something I wanted no part of.

    So why at 62, did I join 100,000 like-minded people at the Women’s March in St. Paul in January? And 10,000 people for the March for Science -MN on Earth Day?

    Because I can’t bear to see 40-50 years of progress—on civil rights (race, gender, religion, and country of origin), women’s rights, and environmental protections—disappear.

    This just can’t be my generation’s legacy.

    I know full well that marching by itself doesn’t change anything. It’s just gesture, and that gesture has to be followed up with a sustained effort to create change. I’m prepared to do that, too.

    I believe that seeing the sheer numbers of marchers puts politicians on notice—we are a force to be reckoned with, and they serve us, not the other way around.

    A sea of marchers on at the Women’s March – MN on 1/21/17, including my son who was on crutches

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    Earth Day March for Science – St. Paul

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    I hope that other people who share my views and values will be heartened and moved to take action too.

    Marching makes me feel less powerless, more hopeful.

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    6 responses to “Why March?”

    1. Jan Wenker Avatar
      Jan Wenker

      Go Ellen! We need to keep this movement going……march on!

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

        Thanks, Jan. We’re in it together!

    2. Eliza Waters Avatar

      Similarly aged, our memories are the same. Like you, I worried about confrontation and violence, but I have been heartened that the marches since Jan. have been upbeat and an impressive show of democracy at work.

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

        I did worry and still do worry about violence and things getting out of control. The two marches I’ve been part of have been peaceful and family -oriented, which encourages me. My favorite cheer is, “This is what democracy looks like.”

    3. Valorie Grace Hallinan Avatar

      We’re about the same age, and I feel the same way you do. I remember Kent State, I lived not far from there. It is so disturbing to see us moving backward on so many fronts, and those of us who were not previously activists have to find our way to taking stands. Thanks for writing this, Ellen.

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

        Thanks for reading! I know a lot of people like us who have been catalyzed by recent events.


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