For me, one of the most memorable scenes in The Great Gatsby, for several reasons, is the preparation for the Gatsby-Daisy reunion at Nick’s house. The work included a landscaper cutting the grass in the pouring rain.
I thought about that scene after enduring five days of rain last week, including an all-day monsoon on Saturday. On Monday, much of my yard was still too soggy to mow.
Many of my neighbors had no such qualms. Several of them sat on their tractors in the garage or driveway revving their engines in barely-restrained anxiety about uncut grass while checking the gray skies every 30 seconds.
On Tuesday, the evidence of their impatience was plainly visible. Muddy tire tracks in the grass. Aborted circuits after it became obvious that the lawn was being ripped up. John Deere’s mired in swampy patches.
Why couldn’t they wait? Are they so anal that naturally sprouting grass cannot be tolerated for another day or two? OMG, what will the neighbors think?
Whatever.
Several years ago, a contractor was at the house to give an estimate for some outdoor job. I apologized to him that the grass was uncut.
He laughed and said, “What grass?”
Upon closer inspection, I understood his comment. The lawn was mostly green weeds or some other non-grass, but green, life-form.
I am not a fanatic about lawn care. As a matter of fact, I don’t even understand why a dandelion is not a flower instead of a weed. They look nice. And sometimes, a renegade crop of daisies will take root in the tangle.
A nice lawn did not help Gatsby, did it? As a matter of fact, the landscaping probably wiped out any daisies that might have been thinking about flowering there. Hmm.
So, as a veteran of F-rated lawns, some advice: pull the curtains, close the blinds, stare straight ahead when using the driveway, leave for work before sunrise, come home after dark, pray for a snow cover.
The grass can wait.
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