I had a dream that my lawn was out of control, about a foot tall and going to seed all over the place. I needed to mow it, but it was too tough so I had to rip out these clumps of grass first before the lawnmower could even gain a purchase. Now, you could say that this dream had some grounding in reality--but really it's not that bad. Yes, a few clumps are seeding and look a little ragged, but on the whole it's nothing that an impartial observer would ever dream of complaining about. No, the real problem is that the lawn has infiltrated my subconscious. Why do I dream about the lawn, about which I profess not to care, and not my pride and joy the garden?! The sad fact is that I do care about the lawn, am forced to care about it by the inexorable expectations of suburbia. Also, it does look awful nice now, and I'd hate to ruin all that pretty grass which the previous owners, or at least their landscapers, have so graciously provided me with. We're hoping to go with an organic method here, but I'm already thinking about what sort of weed killers and fertilizers I might employ to halt the deterioration that's already appearing.
And yes, I did mow this afternoon.