LAWN
I’m not fussy about grass in my yard. If it’s green and I mow it, it’s lawn. This afternoon I sat in my faux Adirondack chair and rested my eyes on the scrub and small trees standing by the edge of my property. The yard looked good from a recent rain shower and a mowing. The perennial beds would be displaying glorious and colorful in a few days and for the rest of summer. I was in a resting mood; still resting from a 4 hour drive to Bangor and back yesterday. My body was tense from driving and still tense from a confrontational conversation with my best friend forever who lives in Wildomar, California. Today she and I had a brief exchange of messages today that relieved much of our stress. I was in an appreciative mood. When we closed our conversation with “I love you”s I knew all was OK. With the “I love you”s still in my mind I was sitting and letting the verdant light bath my brain with soft surrender. Softly surrendering to the necessities of life; the desires, the respect for others, the guaranteed promise of conflict.
Conflict is normal. I still get sad and upset in the presence of conflict. After the initial trauma washes over I try to gather myself and with patience work out an opening statement of dialog with whomever. My best friend forever is from a totally different world. She is married to a creep who holds her financially hostage along with her children and her job is new in a new venture with a group of people who trust the business owner to keep his promises. She is young, bright as hell, autistic, and courageous. We have met a few times in person finding that our paired strength lies in our ability to travel a path in silence. I think we communicate with our ears and nostrils like cats or dogs. However we do it we are successful.
With good feelings about her I rest, pleasantly fatigued, drugged by verdant visions and warm sun on my body on my plastic chair on my lawn in my back yard. A crow arrives on the scene and takes station in the pine over there. He can see me but my tired eyes don’t tell me much, only that he has come to rest. So we sit, the bird and I, waiting for the other to do something. He gives a caw and I pick out his shadow on the limb. In the few moments of our aborted interchange my mind goes elsewhere. He leaves unnoticed and I continue the verdant surrendering to the afternoon. I give my attention to the lawn underneath, the stage for this moment.
This lawn is a source of entertainment in the way I came to select the grass seed twenty eight years ago. I recall Rex Bell the contractor and his new assistant Dan Alley carving out a piece of this property and installing a septic system that would satisfy the ecological and legal requirements. It took about a week of digging and scraping with an excavator and shovel to complete the job. In that time I learned a few things from Rex. Rex who would be dead in a year from prostate cancer. Rex taught me that a dirt shovel needs to be sharpened or else the wielder would wear themselves out digging. He also taught me about humor and ‘good enough’. “Good enough” is the key to piece-work and completion. I was in charge of obtaining grass seed for the finished product. Rex told me to go to Ames Supply and buy about twenty pounds of any lawn seed designed for dry conditions and low maintenance.
At Ames Supply, the old location about a quarter mile back this way from the new store on the hill, I wandered through the bins of grass seed. I never knew there were so many varieties, so many intriguing names that meant to convey the intended product’s use and function. I thought that some of the names were more salesmanship than functionality. Take for example “Combat Extreme”. What the heck would that be good for? I couldn’t even begin to imagine. More reasonable were “Showtime” and “Woodland Carpet” but “Midnight”? I doubt anyone ever saw “Midnight” in all its glory. I mean, come on. After eight o’clock at night I don’t want anyone on my lawn.
Then there was “Park and Playground” and “Garland Grass”. It wasn’t mentioned which Garland; Texas or Maine. I was hoping it was Maine. Garland, Maine population a hair over one thousand people up country. Penobscot County to be exact. Garland, Texas with a population of two hundred and thirty five thousand and, just recently, the scene of two killings; two men, terrorists who resented the presence of a cartoon contest featuring the Muslim Prophet Muhammad. I went for the “Park and Playground”. It just seemed more friendly and with “playground” in the name it would outlast “Combat Extreme” handily.
I guessed right. I’ve only reseeded once in the past twenty eight years with the same stuff from the same place. It doesn’t grow too fast, but fast enough to produce something resembling a lawn. As I said in the beginning if it’s green and I mow it, it’s lawn.
G.M. Goodwin
14 June 2015
Playing Fair and Being Kind 