You know what really brings a yard together? Not solar lights, gnomes, or a fountain shaped like a fish spitting water. Nope. It’s big, chunky, beautiful, ground-covering redwood bark nuggets.
In 2020, when Winterpast was knew to me, the backyard needed some sprucing up. Each morning at 6 am, I’d drive to Lowe’s, where I would lift eight huge bags of bark onto my cart. Pay. Load. Drive home. Unload. Wheel-barrow them. Spread. This was repeated for weeks until all the beds were covered. Who needs a spa when you garden?
And so, five years later, it’s finally time for the front. HHH and me. Two people with a dream, a front yard in desperate need of mulching, and a whole lot of false hope.
At 6 am on a glorious desert morning, we headed to Lowe’s to get the bark. Seems in 5 years, not only prices have changed a bit. The bay where it used to be now held rubber bark in five, non-fading colors. Not choosing to cover our beds in rubber, we traveled to the east. Just a month before, we’d checked at our toney little nursery, which had the stuff for $90 a yard (27 cubic feet) with a delivery charge of $100. They’d been hoarding piles of glorious Redwood Bark just for us.
But, just a month later, they weren’t hoarding anymore. A large “We’ve Retired” Sign hung on the gate. The place was an empty yard where we’d just bought the cutest pot and our 2025 Portulaca, along with ladybugs and praying mantises.
All wasn’t lost because their next-door competitors were thriving. Surely, they’d have the same thing. But again, we hit a brick wall. It seems there’s a shortage at the moment, and no one is delivering Redwood Bark. They hadn’t seen any for quite some time, but assured us they’d call us when it came in.
We waited weeks. Phones remained silent and emails were unanswered. HHH even began talking to the answering machines in a hopeful tone, like they might eventually respond if we were polite enough. We made calls to the very best nurseries just to the west. Some associates didn’t even know what we meant by redwood nuggets. We might need to drop the dream and come up with a new plan.
And then—defeated, barkless, emotionally mulched—we decided to take a break. A “StayCayAway.” No bark talk or landscaping drama for 24 hours. Just us, cold drinks, and an evening at our favorite resort. But one minute we were relaxing, and the next minute we were saying, “Let’s just go check out that huge landscaping and rock store to the West. No big deal. It’ll take an hour.”
We pulled in, walked up to the counter, and casually asked, “You wouldn’t happen to have RedWood Bark Nuggets, would you?”
The guy didn’t blink. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t ask us to spell it.
Instead, he said, “Yes. Bin #82. $62 a yard. How many do you want? By the way, it’s $27 a yard cheaper than those jokers to the east.”
I looked at HHH. He looked at me. We high-fived in that slow-motion, movie-ending kind of way. Cue music. Cue sunset. Cue the brother with a borrowable trailer. Fer-get-about-delivery-fees. Just 48 hours later, the front yard looks like it just came back from a spa weekend at the redwoods.
Neighbors have been walking by while nodding in admiration. One lady whispered, “Where did you get that bark?” as if we’d mulched with shredded Benjamin Franklins.
HHH and I just smile, sip our ice water. Sometimes, the bark you’re looking for isn’t across the state or hidden in a secret mulch vault to the east. Sometimes, it sits just down the road from a StayCayAway to the West.
