OVERLOOKING THE POND

The Lawn  |  Climate Clash  |  Cultural Void

"THE LAWN"
Written by
Jim Mendrinos

I have a very unhealthy relationship with my lawn. I know I don't like it, and I'm fairly certain the feeling is mutual. See, I made the mistake of buying a corner house, and with no children, all the lawn work falls on me. And let me just say, it's a lot of lawn.

I know a lot of men my age are proud of their lawns. They've somehow turned lawn size and upkeep into this twisted contest. Somehow being "a man" is rooted into the size and look of their lawn. It's amazing where the male journey takes us. From "my pop can beat up your pop," through the adolescent obsession with our, shall we say, appendages, straight through to "I've got the biggest and baddest lawn on the block." Throw in this car thing that most of us have going on, and it a wonder that we have time to think of anything else. Fortunately, at least in the lawn area, I don't suffer from these obsessions.

Do you know the expression "the grass is always greener on the other side?" In my case it is. My block has home after home of healthy, well manicured grass. My lawn is yellow, sickly, and uncut. It's starting to resemble a mini hay field. Yesterday I caught a Yak grazing on what used to be a rose bush. Quite honestly I'm thinking of having it paved over.

Not that I didn't try. I wanted this to work out. I had plans. I wanted a big lawn so I could plant things. I've lived my whole life in the concrete confines of New York City, and all of a sudden I thought I was Farmer Joe. Let's face it, the only way I'd eat something from my yard is if I yanked it from the ground and it was pre chopped, pre washed, and in it's own individual plastic bag. I spent my whole life coming up with new ways to avoid eating vegetables, and now I want to plant them? What was I thinking?

Not that it's even an option now. At this point, even the dandelions have died. You know your lawn is cursed when even the weeds won't grow there. I think my lawn is on top of some type of ancient burial ground. It can't all be my fault, can it?

I obsess, but I think I might be fine with it. I look down the street and see all these guys mowing lawns, washing their cars, and standing by their fences talking to each other about their lawns and their cars. Quite honestly I expect an arm wrestling contest to break out.

I chose to sit, looking out the window, gazing at the pond. Funny, I've never seen anyone mow the grass out their, or manicure the grounds. Occasionally I see them picking up trash, but that's about it. Yet, the pond is beautiful. Thick, rich grass, and scenic trees line the pond. It may not be manicured, but it has the elegant beauty that nature provides. It is spectacular.

Lately I've taken to thinking that the pond across the street is my pond. It makes me feel better about my own lawn. Now if only I can get my wife to feel the same way.