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6 OUR YUCAIPA | APRIL 2016 The Middle of the Road: By Randy Peters, a middle-aged, middle-income, middle-school teacher The grass is greener from the porch Being a man of middle-age creates an opportunity to reflect on the successes and conquests of youth. Yes, there were challenges and accomplishments that every younger man seeks in his life. They are rights of passage, reasons to pound his chest and acknowledge his celebration of testosterone- filled existence. True, when such a man reaches middle-age, those accomplishments may not come about as often as they once did. In fact, at this age many men need assistance to keep the celebration going. I have become one of those men. I have not addressed this issue in my column before, but I think it is time. My name is Randy, and I don't do my own yard work anymore. I have always been fascinated with plants and landscaping. I like to explore the different colors and patterns on leaves and flowers. When I was a kid, I hated pulling weeds and mowing the lawn. But I was the first one out there when it was time to change the landscaping or add new flowers and plants to the yard. I would fantasize that this would be the year that "Better Homes and Gardens" would show up with a camera crew. When I got my first apartment, I was so excited that it was a ground floor unit with a 5' x 5'-foot patch of patio and dirt out the back door. I envisioned a combination of a jungle and a midwestern farm blooming in no time. I'd grow my own salads and harvest wheat for bread by spring. Birds and woodland animals would hear of my botanical oasis and come celebrate with me. I bought seeds and flower pots before I completely unpacked the unnecessary things like sheets and towels. I did successfully grow some vegetables there, but I learned that 12 hours of shade near the beach did not create the ideal conditions for a tropical paradise. I spent the next several years on my own or with my wife in various apartments and condos. My gardening was limited to house plants and the occasional ivy growing up the outside wall or fence. Then I hit pay dirt. My wife and I bought our first brand new house in Yucaipa. That was about 25 years ago. My wife worked hard to make a home for us on the inside. She had ideas for carpet, paint, furniture, room arrangement. Me? I bought large sheets of graph paper and vellum. I measured every inch of the dirt that surrounded our new home. I drew plans and determined what chores had to be done and what stages of development had to transpire. I determined the fencing, the sprinklers, the walkways, the planters. And then with my wife, I attacked the yard. By the time I planted grass by seed, I knew the first phase was done and it was time to relax. But I didn't really relax. I think I was outside everyday checking on how fast the grass seed was coming in. I agonized over the flow of the sprinklers and the even distribution of water. I bought my first brand-new lawn mower and counted down the days until I could parade it around the new lawn. Life was good. Seventeen years ago, my wife and I decided to build our current home in Yucaipa. I went through the same process of planning, sketching, and coloring the landscape plans. But this time technology helped, and I bought several landscaping programs that helped us see what our new yards could look like. We planted every tree and cemented every brick in the landscaping. I dug trenches and happily put together the sprinkler system like a kid playing with Legos. After a couple more years, my wife started dropping the hints that I knew were inevitable but didn't want to admit. "Have you thought about getting some help and hiring a gardener?" she would ask. "That way you can relax and free up your time." I would wonder if there was a hidden message in her request. Did she not think I was vigorous enough to maintain our yard? Was I disappointing her with my gardening mojo? Was there another yard that she found more exciting and lush? Time went on and I eventually agreed with my wife (as all smart husbands should do). I hired a gardener and started the process of embracing the letting go of yard work. Oh, sure, I still dabbled in rearranging the pots on the patio. Every once in a while I would plant some annuals to add extra color in the yard. I would even spray some Round-Up to remind the lawn that I was still the master of my own domain. But a few months ago, I went further than I ever thought I would. Our front yard was starting to look dated and worn. There was too much grass for our drought-laden sprinklers to keep green. The yard dipped and dove thanks to the underground maze of gopher tunnels. The sprinkler timer became unpredictable. Time had taken its toll. We hired RevCo to come in and update the front yard. They drew the plans. They cleared the old yard. They put in a new sprinkler and drip system. They compacted decomposed granite. They created a beautiful creek bed of river rock. They put in a lighting system that creates visual magic at night. They added just enough sod to keep it lush, but not enough to overwork our water bill. I only had to come home everyday and admire the work that younger men could do. And now that it's done, do I feel cheated? Do I feel unsatisfied that it wasn't me who did the work and completed the task? Am I concerned that people will think I'm too old and unable to do what I used to? Hell, no. I am embracing middle-age! I'm also going to go sit on the front porch, drink a cup of coffee, admire the beauty of nature, and be grateful for the passage of time. Keep your eyes on the road.