Somewhere outside

Listen.

The leaves fall outside, all on their own.

We curse them for falling. Leaves. Who said we need to spend this much time grooming our lawns? Are there lawnmowers and rakes in heaven? In hell? Don't we have anything better to do?

I'm not exempt. Why do I bother? Our neighbors and the stigma of having an unkempt yard (a real sign of laziness or other, even worse, problems in the home) keep us tethered to our machines and labors. All rebels are labelled as true pariahs, to be avoided at any cost. Would you want to talk to them about the views on lawn care? Really?

But the sound you hear outside is a familiar one. A signal. The cycle is changing. Put on another layer and ready yourself for longer nights, for shorter days.

I'm working for a company that sells mower parts. Of course, the hottest, longest days are when the place buzzes with activity- the phones ring off the wall-more and better blades for sharper cuts-nothing is too good to defeat our old enemy, the growing grass.

Long grass makes a beautiful sound when the wind whips its way through it. I've heard it whistle. The manicured lawn doesn't even whisper. A four-legged friend can simply dissapear in an unshorn grass jungle, drunk on all the scent in that wild green stuff.

How many insect worlds are endangered because of the false order we impose with all our machinery? Would our world tumble in collapse if we let the grass grow?

Here's a good one for you: I closed this post to edit it and what advertisements d'ya suppose appeared? Make no mistake, we're all about the lawn here.

Here's one I really like-it's called The Sluice. It sold at FolkFest in Norcross this past August.