It’s late on a hot, summer Saturday afternoon, and I hear my neighbor mowing his lawn. He’s a relatively new neighbor. He, and the woman I assume to be his wife, apparently paid the nearly half-million dollars for the big house across the road, and the 11 acres that go with it. Frankly, I’m glad to have someone in it, since it sat empty most of the time since the original owner built it. Empty houses invite trouble. The owner’s druggie daughter lived in it a while, but that was little consolation.
These folks look my age or older, and seem quite concerned with the appearance of the place. In fact, I think this is at least the third time THIS WEEK that he’s mowed his yard. Somehow, that strikes me as just a bit obsessive. My wife thinks he’s trying to send me a message, since my lawn is (literally) a couple feet high in spots. Actually, about 40 feet around our house has been mowed for safety reasons, but you can’t tell it from the road.
I think he’s seen my lawn get mowed one time, about the time they moved in a couple months or so ago. Since that time, the weather has been insufferably hot, and I’ve been under the weather. It will get mowed soon, but I’m waiting for a cool afternoon or evening when I’m feeling up to the task. Until then, the crab grass, broom sedge and “greasy grass” will continue to put on their last summer spurt of growth, hoping to seed out before I mow again. They’ll probably make it.
I’ve never been big on following schedules for mowing my lawn. Twenty years ago, one of the deacons at my church made the comment about how pretty my lawn was, “when it was mowed.” I’ve never much worried about my influence on local property values, either. A neighbor, who used to live about a quarter mile down the road, tried for five years to get me to buy a new truck. I KNOW it was because he felt that the old clunker sitting in my driveway made his place less valuable. He finally gave up and moved to another county. Maybe this guy will, too.
Don’t get me wrong, I really like it when my lawn is freshly mowed. I just refuse to go crazy when things prevent me from doing for it. This is only the third time in my life that it’s looked this bad, and it will soon be taken care of, so it’s not like it’s a constant thing.
Still, I sort of feel sorry for the guy across the street. My place really DOES have an effect on the appearance of his place, though I don’t wish it so. Still, I think the man may be possessed—three times in one week isn’t normal in ANY sense of the word. Perhaps if I can get my place mowed this weekend, he’ll get a little rest.
ADDENDUM – My wife made the comment that, once upon a time, the neighbors would ask, SINCERELY, if there was a problem they could help me with. In those days, they would have helped repair my mower, or would have mowed my yard for me until I was on my feet again, or dealt with WHATEVER the problem was. Few neighbors help anymore in this area. Of course, I couldn’t let them, even if they offered, since I have no home-owner’s insurance to cover liability. The times, they are a’changin.’ © 2015