When I returned to my computer five minutes after giving Gemini a lengthy prompt, I had two things: a functional app in a preview window, and a message about a bug.

“~ Channel is unrecoverably broken and will be disposed!” Sounded bad! But right below it was a button to fix the bug. Pretty weird that I just instructed a computer to build a whole app for me with a single prompt, but it needed me to click a button to fix a bug. I did anyway, and in 233 seconds Gemini reported back that it had succeeded, using words like “blockages” and “race conditions.” I didn’t understand a bit of it. It was thrilling.

This was my second or third attempt at vibe-coding an app, depending on if you count one that I never took out of the preview stage. The project that never fully launched was a web app with one job: to check if a local high-end grocery chain is running its annual Peach-o-Rama event. So far, no peaches. However you count it, the project at hand is more ambitious: an app that will help me master my unruly yard.

When my husband and I moved into our house eight years ago, we didn’t give a lot of thought to yard work. Sure, you mow the lawn and stuff, but don’t the shrubs and trees pretty much take care of themselves? We ignored the yard until the weeds moved in. The flower beds bordering the house and the boundaries of the yard quickly filled with weeds of biblical proportions. Clearly there was more to this whole “yard” business than we anticipated.

We won a couple of battles with the weeds but eventually lost the war and called in a landscaper. His one-time visit let us leave the yard mostly on autopilot for a few years. It worked, but then the weeds started creeping back and the shrubs were showing signs of distress. When the weather started turning spring-ish this year, I resolved to figure out what was going on with our yard.

I had a rough idea where to start, but I wanted some help along the way and a method of organizing the chores that needed to be done. Why not make an app for that?