The Porch at Flamingo Grove is Now Open The Porch at Flamingo Grove is open for the season, much to the delight of our cat, Sheleata Kanatuna. He supervised the whole process from the front window. Like most things at Barnes Place, there is little evidence of effort. But the opening of the Porch at Flamingo Grove required enough work, sweat and tears, I'm ready to put the place up for sale, claim my equity and move on to high-brow apartment living where I could enjoy a lovely porch with a fancy view. All while sipping a sweet tea and watching boys in Dickeys tend to the taming of our lush environment as it bursts forward with the force of spring like a child racing through puberty. At 7:15 this morning, the dog stomped his feet on my chest, combined with a high-pitched whimper, signaling that we're 15 minutes late for our morning date. He does this stomping whimper thing whenever he wants to get your attention. I guess if you're a 10-pound dachshund who stands four inches off the ground but think you're really 150 pounds, you might think this stomp is actually effective. So I rolled out of bed, tripping over the cat rubbing up against my shin. Sheleata usually shows affection when he's hungry. He hasn't figured out, affection or not, he'll still get fed--let's keep that our secret. With the cat fed and dog walked, I went looking for the garden clothes. Now you might be confused here--garden clothes for opening a porch? Of course, we can't have people sitting on our front stoop, passing the time of day as we like to do here in the South (and believe me, from time to time people park and pass not only the time of day, but the entire day without leaving our porch unless it's for another beverage) if the yard looks unkempt. Now, if you could see the cinder blocks underneath the house, or an axle, or there were a big satellite dish in the front yard, or children's plastic toys strewn across the lawn, or an El Camino parked in the grass, we could easily open the Porch at Flamingo Grove without much pomp and circumstance. But when you're circle of friends includes a landscape architect who conveniently points out your entire yard is done completely wrong and it would serve you best to rip out the everything and start over, pulling a few weeds and raking up last fall's leaves is a minimum requirement. Our landscape architect friend is, of course, completely disgusted by the fact we have nine pink flamingos in our front yard, which is how the porch gets its name. "If you want a camp element," he says, "then just one or two will do in a corner. But don't you think nine is overdoing it?" Not at all. Where in the wild do you see just two pink flamingos? You don't. Besides, our entire flock is discrete; you can only see them from the porch and at night when the landscape lights cast giant flamingo silhouettes on the front of the house. By 7:30 I was in the yard, pulling weeds. I dread pulling weeds because it seems like a lost cause. There have been many times when I've pondered letting the entire yard go, post little placards around, and claim we've started a giant herb garden. "These are wonderful in soup. Oh, and over here, I love to use these as a garnish. Especially when we serve something with a red sauce." The weeds had changed, which was quite a surprise. Most were big spider-like things, where once the root system is discovered, an entire square foot of weed comes loose. Those are my kind of weeds. Plus, the horse dung we had used in the flower beds last year was still relatively loose, so there wasn't much digging. Like the first year. The first year, even with the assistance of a shovel, we couldn't break ground. In fact, we broke a shovel. As I pulled weeds, I divided the mums and spread them out, making up for the ones that didn't come back last year. I jumped to the conclusion if they didn't come back last year, they most likely would not come back this year. With the weeding and mums divided, I refereed to my handy "First Time Gardeners" book. It's got all kinds of great information. My favorite part is the glossary, where I look up "Annuals" and "Perennials" every year because I can never keep those straight. This book is wonderful. It has cartoon pictures for everything, and outlines every step with colorful fun graphics. "How to dig a hole" I think was the biggest revelation I've had in the garden. Who knew how you dig your hole impacts plant growth? While going through the basement, I found the thatcher. The instruction taped to it suggested I thatch the lawn. At Barnes Place, we like to keep the instructions taped to our tools so there is never any question as to the tool's function. So thatch I began. I had hoped to work until about noon, and then call it a day. A thatch, mow, edge, fertilize, seed, move of the plants from the basement to the porch and two trips to Bates Ace Hardware later, I was ready to call it a day at about 4 p.m. Where people find the enjoyment in this, I'm not sure. Gardening doesn't even appeal to the sado masochist in me. In fact, it helps me make time for flossing my teeth. Rather than go out in the yard and work in the garden, I run for the floss, and ponder what I should be doing while trying to stimulate my gums to the satisfaction of my dental hygienist. I haven't flossed my teeth today, but the Porch at Flamingo Grove is open for the season. Stop on by next time you're in the area. The sweet tea is brewing.