2006-08-23

lawnenfreude

My wife and I just got back from our evening walk. We live in a section of town that has a reputation as a well-to-do neighborhood. Indeed, there are quite a few large homes nearby. One of these homes has a monstrous lawn. It is obscene.

All summer this particular lawn has been a work in progress. In June there was the turning of the entire thing which made it a vast brown field. In July there was the seeding with that really nasty smelling sprayed-from-a-fire-hose seed which turned the field a shade of green that does not occur in nature. Then there was the constant sprinkling, and finally the mowing by a team of guys on lawn tractors.

Eventually I stopped looking at it as the sheer size of the thing makes me want to gag. Nobody ever uses it. There's never been a party featuring horseshoes or lawn darts or volleyball or badminton. In fact, I've not seen anyone save the lawn tractor operators so much as set a toe on The Lawn. It is nothing so much as a status symbol, an idol.

So because I will set my eyes on no vain thing, it fell to my wife to notice The Lawn tonight as we walked by.

I probably should have some sympathy for the guy. His financial, if not his physical, commitment to this lawn must be considerable. But instead, I felt... how can I describe it? Oh, I know: glee.

Every patch, every single blade of that beautiful unnatural grass is brown.



My apologies to any lawn nazis out there who are offended by this post. It was purely intentional.



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