Backyard Disasters (Major and Minor)

Our current backyard is best described as a series of cement slabs, paving stones and gravel that doesn't really lend itself to the kind of quiet relaxation that we've grown accustomed to. I'm not exaggerating when I say that we don't have a single square foot of green space - a minor oversight when we signed the lease.

First, a quick history:

When my wife and I first moved in together, we lived in a small three-flat that shared a modest yard that was freshly sodded when we moved in at the end of the summer. With six apartments, five dogs and a host of friendly folks, we all came home from work and let our dogs romp around while we chatted and contemplated dinner plans.

It wasn't over the top, but it was nice and green and the grass was cool when the dogs wanted to take a break.

All of this came to an end when Rottweiler puppies became fully grown dogs and tore up the grass the following spring. The party was over when the landlord left one of the most unintentionally funny notes on the front door expressing his anger over the "Alabama Dog Run" that we'd turned the backyard into.

From there, we moved to suburban Minneapolis where we had actual front and back yards and took care of the mowing and upkeep. The Girl found out that she really enjoyed planting flowers and vegetables in the gardens (apparently she can keep plants alive outside of the home, but never inside) and I was able to play with the sprinkler systems and lay down bark for the dog to pee all over without destroying the grass.

Best of all, there was no sharing of the yard, so no one else was there to screw things up.

We aren't so lucky anymore.

Following our downstairs neighbors' Cinco de Mayo party, a cooler full of Jell-o shots and a stuffed Speedy Gonzales (they went for the authentic fiesta this year) and a 3/4 full keg of cheap beer were left right next to the back door. It's now well past Mayo and on the doorstep of Uno de Julio and it's all still sitting outside, right next to the back door.

They've been moved around a bit as the landlord has fought the good fight against the Mystery Hole - a four foot sinkhole caused by an old drain pipe that fell apart and mainlined sand and dirt into the sewer pipe under the apartment. Considering the building dates back to 1918, it's probably safe to guess that nothing had changed since the walls went up.

A flurry of PVC pipefitting took place last week when the old drainage system came out and the new one went in and things are fine, but a new sinkhole might be starting. I'll post pictures if the back of our apartment falls two stories into the garage.

Back to the keg/cooler combo - keep in mind that a keg of beer runs almost entirely on pressure to take the carbonated beverage from the barrel to your cup. What I learned yesterday morning as I sipped my coffee and watched my dog poop was that two months is on the far end of outdoor exposure for a cheap plastic tap.

After that much time in the sun, rain and heat, the tap couldn't hold out any more, blew the hose against the the fence six feet away and unloaded several gallons of beer all over the backyard, which as I mentioned before is almost entirely paved.

It smells like living next door to a small scale brewery that makes awful beer.

When we get our own place, the first thing I'm doing after the boxes are unpacked is stripping off the first four inches of topsoil, laying down gravel underneath and creating a drainage system to rival the best ballparks and golf courses in America.

I'm still on the fence about getting a weighted mower to cut designs into the turf. That would be so rad.

(Image from: EnglishRussia.com)