We Are The Village Green Preservation Society

Yesterday evening, the extended family played street soccer on my sidewalk. It was just like one of those Kennebunkport touch football games, if the Kennedys were from Wisconsin, somewhat less fit, and had just eaten too much Chicken Marsala.

For my first Father's Day, I received a mammoth gas-powered lawnmower with a side-discharging mulcher. Mowing my lawn with this thing will be like filling a Honda Scooter with jet fuel, or like removing a mole with napalm. We had to borrow my father-in-law's van to pick up the gift, so my guesses along the way progressed from a Noel Spangler sculpture to a rear-mounted two-seater bicycle carriage to (as we pulled into the Sears parking lot) a new television.
My lawn-care empire starts now.

Here's a link to Lydia Davis' poem(?) "A Mown Lawn." Scroll down for it.