Lawns

I read somewhere that lawns are a reflection of a person’s soul. And by read, I mean I glanced the headline, decided it was probably stupid, and kept on skimming the headlines that somehow made me feel informed, when, really, all I’d done was get a snapshot of how the apocalypse was already here. But the headline kept coming back when I drove through our suburban neighborhood. 

I noted the state of the lawns. There were a few lawns that looked like their owners were going straight to heaven—lush green, well-edged, and not a weed in sight—but most were in varying states of disrepair. There’s one lawn that was almost waist high. I went out of my way to drive by it (and still do on my way to the store). I took comfort in knowing our lawn wasn’t the worst. 

I’d classify our lawn as unkempt, but tidy. There were patches of crab grass, bleached splotches where kids left toys to bake in the sun, and weeds sprinkled throughout the garden beds. Not exactly going to be the talk of the Home Owners Association, but good enough to keep us off the Facebook shaming page.

And those owners of the pristine-I’ve-punched-my-express-ticket-through-the-pearly-gates-lawns, most of them pay other people to tend their patches of heaven. Wonder what that says about their souls?

-be cool and care