Not that I ever know what to do with it all. I can barely cut grass straight, let alone compile a pleasing to the eye flower garden. I don't get butterflies to my butterfly bushes...I get moths. And the fact that I suck at gardenology will only get better with the new mower my husband
I see crop circles in my lawn's future.
Anywoo, the said mower was to be delivered yesterday. Dear husband prepared a place for it like you thought we had procured a horse, the way he was preparing room and board in the shed. Well, the wrong mower was delivered. No lawn mower to fawn over today. So, when I saw what looked like a huge beanbag chair barfing all over our yard later that afternoon, I turned to pouting husband and said in my best Obi Wan voice
"You don't neeeeeed the lawn mower...these aren't the Droids you are looking for..." I even did the Jedi hand wavy thingy as I said it.
He was not amused. Well, he was, slightly.
So, looking back, I can't recall if March came in like a lion or not. I do know husband o'mine will be back to his lamb-like sweetness once his new mower is finally delivered, and that I know I will never be allowed to mow the lawn more than twice, with all those alien aircraft on our lawn.