Enjoying a beautiful spring? Beware the siren song of the lawn and garden store

I was being wooed by spring and it was a delight. My grass was a bright shade of fairy tale green, the trees were budding and my tulips had bloomed. I was giddy.

The best part was that everything looked lovely and it required no effort of my part. It’s just the glory of spring. But then I had to go and ruin it.

Instead of savoring this milieu and hyping myself up for summer and the non-stop yard work ahead, I got peer pressured into trying to make my lawn look even better.

It wasn’t from my neighbors or even all the yard crews mulching beds with aggressive enthusiasm. It was the siren song of the lawn and garden store. Once I breached the inner sanctum of flowers, shrubs, trees, seeds, fertilizer and all sorts of yard doodads, I was a goner. They had me. I was smitten.

The frustrating thing is I knew better than to go into a lawn and garden store this early in April. I was even repeating the phrase “just because they’re selling it doesn’t mean you should be planting it — yet.”

This was a lesson I’ve had to learn the hard way. I’m a reformed early planter. For years I would be taken in by a “false spring” and think it was time to start digging in the soil. I might as well have been planting rows of $10 bills because the flowers and my wallet both needed resuscitating.

When we lived in Reno, I was told when the snow melts on Peavine Peak you can start planting. In central Texas, the wisdom was when the bluebonnets bloom that’s your go sign. But here in Kansas City there’s no real marker of when it’s OK to start going crazy with begonias.

Several years ago I vowed not to plant any flowers until Memorial Day weekend. I feel like this makes me late to the garden party but at least none of the flowers have been extinguished by a late spring frost.

So, armed with this life experience, I knew to stay away from the plants and instead veered over to the gardening tools. This is where I got in trouble. I bought a fancy new rake with “coil spring tings” for “expert raking.”

I was excited. I knew our rake was at least two decades old and I couldn’t wait to see what delights coiled spring tings would bring.

As soon as I got home I started raking up those pesky leaves that somehow missed our big fall clean up. The coiled spring tings did not disappoint. It was as if they were urging me to do more.

So, I got out the leaf blower and began blasting all the leaves and detritus stuck under bushes and trapped in corners. Then I felt compelled to get out the mover to mulch all the leaves and that led me to mowing and mulching the entire yard which meant I had to drag out leaf bags and before you could say “stop and savor the tulips” I was covered head to toe in icky leaf refuse.

This resulted in my allergies waging war on my sinus and my head feeling like it had been raked by coiled spring tings. By this point I was berating myself for not resisting the powerful pull of the lawn and garden store.

But somehow it always bewitches me. It’s like an enchanted land where anything is possible. Much like the gift of a gorgeous spring day in Kansas City.

Reach Sherry Kuehl at snarkyinthesuburbs@gmail.com, on Facebook at Snarky in the Suburbs @snarkynsuburbs, on Instagram @snarky.in.the.suburbs, and snarkyinthesuburbs.com.

This story was originally published April 9, 2025 at 5:00 AM.