What is it about old people? Why must curmudgeons scare young people off their lawn?
Don’t know, don’t care. I am one. Get off my lawn.
Back in the day, we bought a house that didn’t even HAVE a lawn. People that don’t do the work call it “sweat equity.” Velda called it a “hobby.”
The ground was so hard a rototiller wouldn’t scratch it. We had to go get the industrial strength, self-propelled, so-big-you-need-a-cart-to-transport-it monster to beat the ground into submission.
Hobby, indeed.
But with the help of a couple of friends, we got several hundred square feet of turf installed. We had a lawn; people didn’t have to get off of it … but I was young then. I actually hired people to get ON the lawn. Luis the gardener took care of the lawn at that house, and he followed us to our current lawn. He was followed by Jin the gardener, and that’s where the story takes a turn.
I got old.
So now, I’m going to fire the gardener and take back responsibility for my yard.
I’m old, so now I’m a gardener.
So Get Off My Lawn!
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New York Times on the Greek Island of Ikaria where people garden
