If you’re like me (and let’s face it, you can’t possibly be because I am such a unique and pretty flower) you find yourself wondering why the Hell we grow grass so we can cut it down. This is one of the many problems with society today and one that continually irks me as the lawn must be mowed lest it release dreaded pollen or invoke a citation from the shadow government (neighbors!). I made a valiant effort to slice down the stalks present on our back forty (square meters) and was failed by the electric mower. Were we in a position where we could mow the lawn once a week, it would work beautifully. The combination of crippling heat and torrential downpours fails me everytime.
Our grass loves heat and rain! So it was with heavy heart I set out and chopped it asunder.
My ad-words speak volumes: I will not be having a grass lawn. Should we achieve our dream of farm-living I envision our house nestled in a bevy of trees with rocks and pebbles filling in lawn areas. Grass won’t be a problem, of course, since we’ll have a goat.
Tanngrisnir may run out of tin cans and grass, so we will have to get him feed, I suppose.
In my younger youth I spoke of having a lawn composed entirely of moss. A soft-on-feet blanket with a rich green color. People laughed at me. It is, of course, now terribly hip to have a moss lawn. I expect should time machines ever become reality, there will be several ripples from people patenting ideas they had before someone took action later on.
The moral: I hate mowing. If the city allowed goats, we’d have one. The bonus would be irritating the landlord, but one shouldn’t be so cruel.