By 'it' I'm referring to planting season. As you may remember from last year, I get these spells where I'm addicted to plants. Poppies, coca... oh wait, no, not those kinds of plants. Pretty garden plants, the ones that will turn our lawn into an oasis of beauty in the otherwise grim suburban landscape.
Actually, the landscape in our suburb isn't particularly grim; kind of nice, actually. But for the most part it seems like the supreme focus of most people's beautification efforts is their lawn, which they preserve in stunning greeness by the application of chemicals and tremendous amounts of water, and also by keeping off (the grass). Now I like a pretty lawn as much as the next suburbanite, but I also like playing on it with the puppy. We paid for all this land (in a manner of speaking): it'd be a shame not to walk on it!
What the preceding text can be taken to indicate is, we've given up hope for a showpiece lawn. But with the application of all the delightful examples of the horticulturalist's art available at local garden shops, we can still make our property the envy of neighbors and an example to all. All I need to do now is make some money to support my filthy habbit!