Keep off the Grass ... I Mean Glass

In our discussions with the landscaper last summer, our goal was simple and clear: a kid-friendly backyard. We weren't interested in a bunch of fancy plants or water features or anything that would get in the way of a kid having fun. We wanted grass and lots of it, a patio so we could enjoy dinner outside on a nice Savannah night, and tree for a swing and some shade.

So I was a bit concerned when our pest control guy called last week with some bad news. We were at work and he was in our backyard on a windy day. "Your patio furniture is blowing around the yard, and your table has blown over. I think the glass is broken."

I think? I think?

When we got home to assess the damage, it was more like the glass had been shattered in a bazillion tiny pieces and strewn across the backyard.

So much for my kid-friendly yard.

These look like fairly substantial pieces of glass on the ground, but what you can't tell is that each of these larger pieces are really made up of teeny, tiny bits of broken glass. So every time we'd pick one of these up, with just the slightest pressure they'd crumble in our hands, raining more glass into the yard. And in between all these larger pieces were thousands of the tiny fragments already broken and stuck in the dirt. These small shards were everywhere, from the patio where the carnage began, all the way to the base of the pine tree and all along the fence line where glass slammed into them and shattered. The pictures do not even begin to tell the story.

For several hours on Saturday, Lee and I crawled around in the grass, down on our elbows, picking up pieces of glass so small we couldn't wear gloves and probably needed tweezers. We cut ourselves often enough, but barely made a dent in cleaning up all the glass. I now believe the job is too big to do by hand, and I'm going to see if I can find a lawn care company that can help us.

Meanwhile, we have instituted a "No Shoes, No Service" policy for the backyard.