Cross Training in the weeds.

The problem that I have with yards, more specifically my backyard, is that three out of the four seasons, I'm either working in it, or feeling guilty for NOT working in it.  That's one of the FEW things I like about winter -- no yard work and no guilt.  Well actually there's always guilt .... it just shifts inside to, among many things, my bathroom shower and the clutter in my sewing room.

Spring hits western Oregon in March although the weeds have been thriving for a good month before that.  Since the calendar still says Winter, I try to ignore the glaring evidence of several-months-worth of neglect for as long as possible.  But after three sunny days this week, I had to go assess the condition of what's enclosed inside my back fence.

In our previous back yard, we foolishly planted maple trees.  And after years of dealing with the mountains of leaves they drop, I declared Never Again.  So of course in this yard, we planted maple trees.  Lots of them.  Japanese maples.   I reasoned -- the leaves are little.  They'll helpfully dissolve into mulch before evaporating entirely.    Not.  This morning I raked until the bin was full with the first of many loads to come. 

Behind it you can see the lawn mower that refused my attempts to awaken it from its winter slumber.

Then there are the grape vines which fill us with hope each year, that they may actually produce a grape someday.

We waited seven years for deck stairs to be built and this plot of dirt under and around it patiently sat empty until post-construction when it could be filled with hostas and other shade loving plants that will hopefully thrive on neglect. 

On a happy note, this lovely little thing called a daphne, blooms and smells wonderful in the early spring, when I'm rarely out there to notice it.  

This is the aftermath of a Christmas castle that lived for a month in our basement.

Speaking of neglect, here is my little up-and-coming patch of tulips that bloom their pretty little heads off in a spot that, like the daphne, seldom gets seen.  

Husband Dear got the mower to wake up and do its thing.  

A pile of leaves to be carted off, lots of weeds, my little blueberry patch in the corner that produced an impressive crop last year, and a couple of our fruit trees that produced a lot of wormy fruit.  (This year we plan to fix that problem.)

Last summer I managed to ignore my yard other than mowing the grass and yes, there was guilt.  But this year, with the stairs finally done, I plan to get my rear in gear and bring it back to its former glory.  New bark dust, more flowers (that I will hate by late August), and BBQ plans.  Yes!  This will be the year!  Oh and I might add, we discovered the brilliance of hiring a landscaper, AKA someone-who-actually-LIKES-yard-work.  (!!)

And what, you ask, does this have to do with running?  Not a thing.  Except that after I've done my daily run, I seldom have energy to do much of the above.  So I've decided that yard work, although not aerobic, IS exercise and shall be counted as such in my mental checklist.   Cross training?  Absolutely.