by T. K. Gorman

Created on: February 19, 2009   Last Updated: March 01, 2009

Being a first-time home owner, I was so delighted that I would finally be able to have my own garden. I had always envisioned having a yard that would put me in one of those "garden-of-the-month" clubs. It would be so spectacular that Martha Stewart would be put to shame. There was only one problem, somehow when I bought the property, I over looked the condition of the yard. I was so focused making sure that the home had all the amnemities that I had desired, that the condition of the yard seemed irrelevant to me.

I had purchased the house late in the fall, and we got snow early that year, so to me the yard looked spacious and beautiful. The front yard had a beautiful cobble stone walkway that evenly separated the terrain, and led to my front door. A nice black metal privacy fence in pristine condition surrounded the backyard. I should have heeded the realtor's words when she said, "the yard could use some work." But before I understood the magnitude of that statement, I had already signed on the dotted lines. What lied beneath the snow covered blanket would remain a mystery to me until the first thaw.

The sun shone bright that morning, and the day of the first thaw was finally here. A day I can assure you I will never forget. I went downstairs, made myself some coffee, and looked at the newspaper. The weather predictions read: fair skies and temperatures in the 60s. Next to the weather report, was a tiny little article, that stated, "after a long hard winter, spring was finally here, and it was time for all of the adamant gardeners to get their gardens in gear for this years annual Home Garden Contest. "I could win this," I thought to myself. I mean after all, it was in my blood. My grandfather was a very reputable gardener in his community, and my mother following in his footsteps, always managed to pull some kind of prize every year from various garden clubs. I was confident that my garden would win. I wrote down the necessary details and submitted my address to be a contestant in the contest.

I quickly finished my coffee, and made my way upstairs. I put on some comfy old clothes, and headed for the great outdoors to start all the necessary work on my yard. I opened my backdoor and stepped outside. The moment of truth, had finally arrived. The mystery of what lied beneath that snow covered blanket, revealed itself to me, like a car being smashed to bits by a large freight train. My yard looked like a missile targeting site for F16 bombers. I was shocked

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