Random thoughts from the Eastern Hills...and beyond!
When I was a kid and went home after school with one of my friends to play for the first time, I could always tell what the visit was going to be like as soon as I saw their yard. (We didn't have lawns in Claiborne county) Dirt was a good sign. That meant a lot of interaction with brothers, sisters and cousins and the likelyhood of some sort of wheeled action - bicycles, dirt bikes or the ultimate... a go-cart! Dogs, cats and chickens were a given at a house with no grass. Most of the time I never went in their house till it was time for supper, and that didn't last long. Those friends were the toughest, most athletic and quickest thinkers. Not the smartest, but the best wit per knowledge ratio. It was a free feeling but there was little opportunity to get by with much. A Pap, Dad, uncle Buster or a tattle-tale cousin was never far-off and that was the down side of no-grass. The rules were few and harshly enforced. I'm sure the champions of zero-tolerance most surely grew-up in no-grass homes.The well trimmed and appointed yard is best described in one word. Predictable. The least encountered yard was the unruly yard. Each was different and they all had their own story to tell. Illness, divorce, disability, over-worked and the most rare... the socially indifferent. As a kid it was like getting to experiment with a prespective that was skewed considerablly from my own predictable world view. Scary, troubling and fascinating all at the same time. Without meaning to, I think I have built a life that is growing this kind of yard. Embrace the weed.
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