The Lawn Ranger

I have some friends...longterm friends...like 40 years of friendship friends who...how shall I put this...they have an ambivalent attitude about lawn upkeep. They tend to ignore their lawn until their home's roof is all that's visible from the street. It's such a tradition with them that it's ignored by acquaintances. I tend to doubt that their neighbors feel the same way. In the past I've snuck over while they were away and cut their yard, then mailed them bizarre letters, ostensibly from the city or the health department or the federal government. I would suggest that they owed exorbitant amounts of money to whoever I claimed had done the work. I would list the things that were found when the mower ventured into their jungle: Jimmy Hoffa, Amelia Earhart's airplane, Michael Jackson's other glove, Waldo, etc.

Recently I had visited these otherwise wonderful folks. When I got to their door, I told them I'd have been there earlier, but I had become disoriented when I exited my vehicle and stepped out into the tall grass. Took me a while to find my way back to the safety of the driveway's concrete. They always laugh and say, "Yeah, we need to cut that mess." But, in truth, these folks are pretty beat after work..and physically they're experiencing some pretty tough problems, so I understand the last thing they wanna do is cut grass.

So on my day off this week, after calling to be certain they were at work, I waded in with my weedeater and edger and began the process of beautifying their yard. I cranked up my Zune (an iPod-like creature) and edged along the curb and parking area. I thought I heard something and paused my Zune (you can't beat Mountain for cutting weeds. Leslie West's voice keeps you on edge). I peered over the grass to see a neighbor waving at me. "Yes, ma'am?" She offered me her rake. Yeah, I could use that, I guess. Ended up with 4 large piles of limbs and leaves. I began snatching limbs and leaves out of the bushes along the front of the house. The junk had collected there after a storm when they'd had someone push debris from their roof and no one ever removed it from the bushes. I caught a glimpse of something shooting from behind the bushes , then flying through the grass. I jumped back. I had no idea what it was...a wombat? A weasel? A wolverine? All I saw was the parting of the grass. As the critter got to the driveway, I saw that it was a cat. Whew!

Using my friends' mower, I started creating pathways...it was like a maze. Like a British garden. The tall grass bent in the wind, tickling my nose. Lovely. Took two to three passes on each row to cut all the thick stuff.

I finally wrapped up cutting the front yard. It's not that large a yard, but I was completely exhausted. I had failed to bring a blower or broom, so the driveway and walk were carpeted with 6 inches of grass and weeds. I was too whupped to do the backyard, bit it still looked a helluva lot better than it had. I turned to return the rake to the neighbor and saw 5 or 6 folks in her driveway applauding wildly! They were throwing confetti and blowing those goofy horns that unfurl paper. Maybe I'm exaggerating a bit, but there were several folks watching from the lady's carport. I returned the rake and explained that my friends weren't able to keep the yard up...blah...blah...blah.

No one called me about the yard that night, which was cool. I wanted to screw with them for a while anyway. The next day I went over after work to trim the bushes along their house. Everything was going fine, when suddenly two very angry, very large wasps attacked. I scrambled out into the yard swinging my clippers wildly. These same clippers had sent me to the emergency room a couple years earlier when they tried to sever my left thumb. Remembering that incident, I threw them to the ground and fended off the wasps with my hands. After giving them a few minutes to settle their angry asses down, I returned to the shrubs to try to scope out their home. OMIGOD! A monstrous nest, literally 1/2 inch below where I had hacked! Wasps were crawling all over the place...entering and exiting the nest by the thousands. Okay, maybe it just appeared to be thousands, but there were a lot of them.

Got home that evening. Phone rings. "Did you cut our yard?" Me: "Nope. Maybe you guys are just getting forgetful like me and you cut it yourself." Them: "Don't think so. Well, someone cut it. Hope it wasn't a neighbor. You sure you didn't do it?" Me: "Yep, I'm sure. I'll get by this weekend and we'll watch a ballgame." Them: "Cool. siiiigh Whoever cut it...they only cut the front." That cracked me up.

I finally relented after a second call yesterday and admitted I did their yard. Had to. They needed to know about those kamikazi wasps.