Our Divine Comedy

My sister is working in her yard. She says she loves to do this and I am glad. Grass mowing, raking, weeding, are not things I would ever choose to do for many reasons. Most of all I just have other things I'd rather do, but I also like the grass when it is longer and full of clover, or when dandelions are blooming along with the verbena and other tiny wild flowers that find their way into unfettered grass. I like the woodland meadow look. My sister likes the urban manicured look, which is good if you live in this neighborhood.

People here regard their yards as something to be controlled. I'm not sure if it is because man, as in human, not men, likes to control things, or if it gives them the false sense of security that says, "I am in control of nature here." They cannot even conceive of someone wanting to do things differently. In their eyes an untamed yard is a sign that you are sick and cannot get out, or lazy and don't want to be a fully working member of their society, or somehow tainted in the haid!

But I have years of not fitting in, so I can weather these storms. In my sister's eyes, the worst thing that could happen would be if she waited too long and they mowed her grass. In my eyes, that would be a gross over stepping of their authority in my life, but one I would gladly let them do if they felt so inclined.

Whatever. Today my sister went out to tamp down the earth of a hole her friend spent five hours digging up and filling in, then she intended to mow, but as usual, she was side tracked. I took Chauncey out to enjoy the comedy in our own backyard.

My sister carefully swept leaves toward herself with a push broom and then picked up a few to put them in a recycling sack. While she did this, the wind blew the rest back to wherever they came from, the flower bed, the garage, everywhere except where she wanted them. Then she went and got her manly blower to finish the job. Plugging it in like a pro, she left the cord all curled up over her pile of leaves and set to it, blowing leaves here, there and everywhere. Finally ending up by blowing them towards the grass and this is where the true comedy began.

As she blew them towards the grass, the wind picked them up and blew them back towards her! It was a classic cartoon whirlwind that could not have been better orchestrated if we had planned it. A huge circle of leaves blowing round and round between the yard and her. In the end I counted eleven leaves in the yard and the rest somewhere close to where they probably started out.

Later this afternoon we bought and planted quite a few little flowers to add color, and fill in between the perennials. I did help here. I helped pick them out, carry them and decide where to put them. I even took pictures and then I went in and cooked dinner.

Life, it's what we make it.