A Touch of San Angelo

Since the day we moved in, I’ve had one lingering backyard dream: a sprinkler system. Not the hose-and-timer workaround I’ve patched together for four summers, but a real, buried, zoned, push-a-button-and-it-works sprinkler system. The kind that says, “This yard is going places.”

But there was one problem: the only water outlet was a single spout on the back of the house. No easy access. No blueprint. Just me, some stubborn grass, and years of garden hose gymnastics. Still, the dream lived on.

Then came this year—the year I finally decided, on a Sunday afternoon no less, that I only had a few weeks left of decent weather to tackle this project. I grabbed a shovel, gave myself a motivational nod, and started digging trenches. (Imagine the Home Depot theme song in the background followed by “Where doers get more done.)

Less than 5 minutes into the project, I hit rock bottom. Literally.

Enter the hero of this story: the San Angelo Bar.

Now, I didn’t even know such a tool existed, let alone bore the name of my hometown, San Angelo, Texas. But there it was, standing tall at Ace Hardware, practically glowing. I had originally gone in for a trenching shovel, but when I saw that “San Angelo” label on what looked like a medieval iron spear, I knew it was destiny. And wouldn’t you know—it worked like a charm. That bar broke up rock and hard soil like it was born to do it (and maybe it was).

Armed with my new hometown-hammering bar, I carved out enough trenches to run three zones—two for the lawn and one for the drip system. I pulled pipe, made connections, installed valves, tested timers, and somehow didn’t flood the entire backyard.

Now, everything’s running smoothly. The zones fire like clockwork, the drip lines are dialed in, and the grass is about to experience a hydration renaissance. Just in time, too—before the brutal Arizona summer arrives. The best part? I only had to make eight trips to Lowe’s and Ace Hardware. (That’s basically one trip per sprinkler zone, plus a few for character development.)

Was it a lot of work? Absolutely. Was it worth it? Every sore muscle. Because soon, I’ll be sitting under the shade of my orange tree, watching the sprinklers dance, sipping a tall glass of backyard-grown OJ, and smiling like a guy who knows the power of a San Angelo bar.