A Big Pile Of Grass

Let things get away for a few weeks in the Pacific northwest and in no time there’s a big pile of grass. Lawns grow so fast here that if unmowed for a week the lawn looks shaggy. In ten days, if your neighbor was from Cleveland, and proud of their lawn, they’d call the county. Let it go for a month and the only way through is to call on Henry Morton Stanley. Three solid days of weed whipping, raking, mowing, (which includes a broken car window, the chute wasn’t even pointed that way), raking again, shin splints and blisters and the small suburban lawn is good till next week.

Meanwhile our fearless leader bumbles on, or so it’s reported, making the world a better place for maggots, who grow yellow white oily fat in the fertile crap they wriggle in.

Scarlet tanangers have been reported, recent sightings also include blue jays, bold red cardinals, cacaphonous grackle, coopers hawks and insanely delirious incessant lilting of mockingbird. Such fragile, timid little hollow boned feathered creatures, yet so lovely and lifting.