Like most people, I have routines when it comes to housework.

Laundry and dishes are done on a daily basis, whereas sweeping, mopping and vacuuming fall into more of an “as needed” category.

Chores like dusting and scrubbing the bathroom tend to be when I notice it and scream “Oh my God! We’re slobs and I need to clean this right now before we end up with a show on A&E .”

My house isn’t clean, it isn’t dirty — it’s “lived in.” I don’t aim to make it magazine-photo-shoot-ready (unless my mother is coming into town) and in general, I’m suspicious of any perfectly organized home with zero clutter.

But apparently this “homey” philosophy ends at my front door because over the past week I’ve noticed that when it comes to my front porch and yard, nothing short of perfection will suffice.

This all started a couple of weeks ago when I finally won my war against the fire ants that had invaded the property. Prior to their (utter) destruction, I had little to do with my yard other than to cut the grass.

After all, I figured why bother? It’s not like we could enjoy the space, that is, not without getting eaten alive. But, now that my yard is ant-free, I have developed an interest in the space and despite my complete lack of a green thumb, I’m determined it will become the envy of the neighborhood.

First off was the porch. Guys, I may be a born and bred Yankee, but I have to say, I have a true tea-sippin’ Southern front porch that runs the entire width of my house.

A wide cement staircase leads right up the middle to columns, railings and wind-chimes, hanging baskets with strawberries or geraniums and colorful pots containing herbs and flowers.

You can languish an entire day away on the big swing at one end, read a book in one of the rocking chairs or kick back and relax on the long teak bench.

I worked hard on the porch, claiming it back from my children by banishing their tricycles and Tonka trucks to the back yard. Outdoor rugs and pillows were added for greater comfort and solar lanterns and citronella candles were placed so it can be enjoyed day or night.

Since finishing it, I’ve spent almost every evening out there and never seem to get bored with the space. I just had one thought that kept bothering me: I wish my yard looked as nice as the porch …

Challenge accepted.

Other than a Japanese Maple and Star Magnolia tree, there is zero landscaping in my front yard. A few daffodils poke up along the sides of the staircase, but that’s about it. And it was time for a change.

Because the porch is raised so far off the ground (four or five feet) there is a large space on either side of the steps where you’re basically just staring at the grey foundation of my house.

Like the Knights Who Say ‘Ni,’ I realized I was in desperate need of some shrubbery — one that looks nice and not too expensive.

I browsed all day, rejecting the usual hollies, azaleas and box-woods, until I finally found the one I wanted — and wondered why I hadn’t considered it before — a blueberry bush.

Now, the guy working told me if I planted just one it would grow, but wasn’t likely to produce any fruit. So, just to be safe, I brought three of them, drove happily home and set to digging out holes for them while my husband chuckled and shook his head.

“No one uses blueberry bushes to landscape their front yard,” he kept telling me, laughing. Other members of my family echoed similar sentiments.

Haters.

But I say why not? The bushes grow to size we need to hide the ugly foundation from view, they’re covered in pretty white flowers and then — the best part — you get blueberries!

Seems like a win-win situation to me, I don’t know why more people don’t plant them.

Besides, if he thinks this is bad, wait until he hears about the grape vines I’m going to plant along our fence.

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Strickly Speaking

Kasie Strickland

Kasie Strickland is a staff writer for The Sentinel-Progress and can be reached at kstrickland@civitasmedia.com. Views expressed in this column are those of the writer only and do not necessarily represent the newspaper’s opinion.