Travel-inspired landscaping

“Why is it that guys want a lawn but never want to mow it?” Tjitska asks me as I show her my latest project.

I’m re-arranging our back garden to accommodate some green tingling for Marcel’s feet while he’s doing the braai (a.k.a. barbequeing).

“Weirdly enough, … ” I reply “Marcel loves mowing the lawn. He evens goes around to other people’s places to do theirs!” Our neighbour looks at me incredulously. I laugh, “Marcel has a penchant for those old-fashioned roller thingies. Reminds him of his younger days when forced out of bed with the sparrows. His dad did his level best to prevent Sunday morning lie-ins … Isn’t it bizarre the things we hanker after?”

You may be wondering which manicured turf has inspired this latest landscaping? Uh. Probably Napoleon Avenue in South Africa, but you’re quite correct, having a lawn is by no means exotic. They’re spread out thick and wide across the globe. The inspiration is for a fire pit. And that comes from Poland (see Zakopane market & Lipnica Wielka), where we sat around a fabulous one roasting sausage, sharing jokes and drinking beer / vodka.

The disadvantage of a normal barbeque is that it’s reserved for warmer weather. But we also enjoy an open fire in colder weather, mid-Winter is not unusual. Unlike charcoal, wood flames can melt an unsuspecting bbq, so we need something substantial. Concrete blocks should do the trick, or so I’ve been advised. And of those we have a-plenty!

I don my creative cap and set about rethinking our back garden. It’s decided the fire place has to be edged with stone blocks. I hit the jackpot 5 minutes into scouring the net. A stash of “free to collect” rocks are in Zeist and I inform Marcel that I’m off to collect them. Muddy Boots ravenously accepts the rocks, but starts moaning with the last few. It turns out, that while Landies can tow 3,5 tons, they’re only capable of carrying about 500 kg’s in the cabin. My little load is closer to a ton. Oops. We tortoise it back to Lelystad.

Diana helps me make a start. We gather the pebbles into plastic buckets and ceremonously dump them on the front garden, keeping a few aside for the fire pit. She removes rows of decorative pavers, and then moves two rows of slabs up to give our lawn some breathing space. I begin the pit. Figuring out how deep and high the seat should be, I use sand for bonding; inspired from centuries old, mortar-free buildings.

To keep it compact, I decide against a circular pit and choose four concrete slabs as the base, and create an L-shape seating area at the back and right. These “walls” are looking a little like a tumbling ruin … I love it! It starts raining so we call it a day and enjoy a well-deserved glass of red. Diana pockets two pebbles as a momento of her humungous effort.

My next challenge is to lift all the pebbles on the left border, so I can raise the bed slightly and get rid of the soil I’ve excavated. Talk about zen! It’s painstakingly slow, but I eventually manage to get them up, spade some soil across and have fun levelling the mounds, adopting the flat-stick trick I saw some street pavers using. The pebbles are replaced and to the uninitiated, it’s looks like I’ve wasted a day.

We’re planning a trip to Portugal shortly and I’m running out of time to get a lawn established. On Wednesday night we order some instant lawn for Friday afternoon, giving me a day and a half to complete the task. Tsjoo-wie!!

The rear paving is a huge task. I start early on Thursday morning, first lifting up the deco bricks, and then the monster 20kg+ slabs and put them to one side. I level out the sand as best I can (hey, I’m not a professional!) and form a double-slab path to the gate. I add more slabs for our myriad of wheely bins, wondering when we’re gonna charge the council rent …

Lunch time I start digging in the (damned) plastic borders to prevent the grass from taking a runner. If pebbles are zen, then this is downright character building. For the first time, I wonder which evil spirit has possessed me to even contemplate this project. This is not fun anymore.

Dig deep, girl, dig deep. Ha ha ha. Literally and figuratively!

Then it’s time to shovel the mx-track into something flat. Each spadeful feeling heavier than the next. I’m so grateful for the soft sand and feel for my mom-in-law who digs holes in her sun-hardened Jo’burg ground. I dig the soil over too, trying to mix the unfertile paving sand with the deeper earth, and exert what’s left of my energy stomping on the ground getting it compacted. By 7 pm I add a layer of top soil and stomp on that too. This time adding the odd little jig or two.

Wow!! The garden is ready for our lawn

Shattered, I have a fabulous shower, a glass of red and hit the sack early. On Friday Marcel finishes his job around lunch time and we drive to Utrecht to fetch our much sought-after grass. I leave the honours to Marcel and he caringly rolls out each strip and cuts it to shape. The lawn gets a solid watering, I tidy up and we’re done!!

Yee-hah! What a feeling.

We can’t stop ogling our lawn and the fire pit works like a charm, although it will need some reinforcement. A stonemason I am not. But that can wait until we get back. Our neighbours have promised to water our new baby every day.

We’re looking forward to many fun-filled evenings, whatever the mercury reads. Still to follow is the special contraption we’re going to build so we can barbeque on open flames …