We’ve reached another of the year’s milestones — June, the month where mowing the lawn changes from a pleasant springtime chore into an onerous summer task.
Where, I ask, is it written that we are all supposed to live on well-manicured lawns? Who decreed that our yards should look like fairways? Since when did the length and density of bluegrass and fescue become a suitable topic for concern and the attendant snippy notes from the neighborhood association?
I mean, really, you let your grass get a teensy 3 or 4 inches taller than the prescribed 2¼-inch height and they jump all over you like you were harboring fugitives in your crawl space or making moonshine in the garage. Which is just preposterous. I have a cellar, not a crawl space.