It's mowing season. A landscaper's delight. A time for home owner's to get outdoors and joyously spend their weekends mulching, trimming and wacking.
To me, however, it has always been a chore. Oh sure, it looks nice when it's done, and I particularly enjoy a satisfying cold beer reward for my sweaty efforts. But what is it about lawn care that motivates anyone to devote such time, money and effort to what I see as a mostly useless endeavor?
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Some years ago, I lived in an apartment above someone's garage. Out my kitchen window was a view of a typical neighborhood of single homes with big yards. One man in particular would spend what seemed like every waking hour, every single day of the week, caring for his yard. Cutting, pruning, measuring, digging, weeding, watering, raking.
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So I wrote a poem about it.
"Kiss My Grass" by Paul Dake
it’s Friday night, and he’s worked hard all week
he’s very tired, but he can’t seem to sleep
somethin’ on his mind, tomorrow morning
rain or shine… he will be mowing
he was snubbed by Home & Garden, by other landscapers ignored
all the agricultural elite just shrugged and acted bored
his neighbors all just shook their heads, they could not comprehend
why their sacred morning silent time was coming to an end
I wonder what, if anything, could keep him from this task
hours spent anticipating tender moments with his grass
wife and children stay asleep, he’s rising up before the dawn
through the garage and step outside, he says, “good morning, lawn!”
genuflecting to his John Deere, mounting up like Jesse James
yes, we have ignition – the exhaust is shooting flames
ironing out the mole hills – hey, toys and frogs, beware!
he’s arousing to the fresh-cut grassy smell that’s in the air
a patch of daisies by the mailbox, all the “wishies” are next door
this little chunk of real estate is all his to adore
no one would dare question him, he’d laugh at them for tryin’
cuz he’s got 13,000 square feet of meticulous design
don’t look now…
but there he is…
in the yard again
Paul Dake - May 9, 1999
