I call it the Green Monster. Spread out before melike some limitless ocean of vertical fury, it called to me. No. Beckoned me to come and tackle it with what puny weaponry I could amass.
I am, of course, referring to the lawn.
Arriving in England in one of the driest summers one could remember I foolishly assumed every summer would be like that one, that the tales of rain and mist and cold penetrating fog were the by-product of a people wanting to keep the "good stuff" to themselves.
And then there was THIS year. No kidding, I would have to take the battle to the lawn every 5 days. Not even a whole week went by before I stepped out into this 3-acre nightmare of continuous greenery once again. With a walk behind mower, no less.
So I was filled with glee (scary thought) when I 'rounded the shrubbery in the front yard and came across a small stand of silvery mushrooms sprouting up through the lengths of grass blades and fallen leaves. So, in typical James style, I quickly abandoned lawn care and grabbed my gear for a 30-minute session spent on my belly trying to capture this little treasure, this fall surprise that I found in my yard.
And when I was done, in typical James style as well, I mowed it flat.