the yard


The other day i found myself at home depot on a Friday night staring at leaf blowers. The store was mostly empty, and there was a surprisingly large selection of leaf blowers. But which one was right for me? Peer pressure can make a man do strange, unnatural things.

What was i doing there? Is there anything more pointless than a leaf-blower? In terms of return on investment per time spent in the yard, you can blow your entire yard clean, only to have it all return over night, like magic. When I was a young child, I can recall many days spent staring out the window as the neighbors waged war on tiny grass clippings and miscellaneous yard debris. It all looked so ridiculous, and I swore I would never waste any of my precious time on this planet engaged in a task so suburban and vacant.

And yet, I am now the owner of my very own leaf blower. Has post-graduation working life already become so monotonous that I am this concerned with the location of leaves in my yard? I know the answer is "no" - I like my job, and I like owning a house. What I hate, however, is the yard, or, more to the point, I hate everyone else's yard.

Every yard on my street is perfect. Sprinkler systems run constantly, trucks come and go, men hop in and out of the trucks and tend to the yards like the most delicate sculptures. And everyone has all the latest yard accessories: fertilizer spreader thingies, weed-eaters, edgers, ride-on mowers equipped with portable DVD players and GPS systems.

I own a mower. I do not have a yard crew, a yard team, or even a yard guy. It's me and the cheapest mower I could find. This, it seems to me, is all that needs to happen in a yard: grass grows, man cuts grass. The end. Somewhere my street decided that yards need to foster a sense of pride or community or something, and somewhere it got competitive.

A recent patch of dry weather and Texas sun caused a portion of my yard to turn a most ghastly shade of brownish-yellow. I was outside, getting something out of my car, when my neighbor happened by with his two inbred designer dogs. He paused and made polite small talk (the pretext) before commenting on my grass. "Ewwww... Gonna have to get that taken care of, huh?" I didn't know what to say. "Um, yeah, I guess," was the best I could do.

I guess this is what it's all about, then. My brownish-yellow patch is an embarrassment to the community. My neighbor's comment has sparked something in me, something that can only be described as the most primitive suburban urge for complete and total landscape domination.

I've got a leaf blower now. And soon there will be more equipment. I'm building an army, and soon squirrel s and other area wildlife will engage in epic wars to gain the right to live in my trees and shit on my driveway. Neighbors will nod in approval, and god help the unfortunate soul with a patch of brown grass.