The Grass Doesn’t Grow Under My Watch

The above picture is that of my backyard.  Although I have no fear of being cited by the City for the grass being too high, I also am in no danger of receiving glowing compliments of having the greenest lawn in my neck of the woods.

It actually is my Mom’s backyard.  She has relinquished custodial care of it to me; however, the front yard is under my younger brother’s care.  His idea of when a yard needs mowing is absolutely counter to mine.  My Mom has to “edge” my brother to mow when it has reached a height beyond her comfort level.  He uses a lawn mower to do the job.  I would, too, but I don’t have the arm strength to turn the mower on, but the weedeater has a push button and off it goes.

I have an Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) more commonly known as Asperger’s Syndrome (AS).  My explanation for the backyard not having a chance to sprout its blades is an ASD obsession.  I’m obsessed with gadgets and my weedeater falls under that category.

I am writing this while on summer break from school while the kids are out.  I’m on vacation but my weedeater is not!  The backyard has gotten a daily haircut since school let out.  Even before school let out, I often had a weed-eating date to recharge my batteries after a school day.  Giving the weeds a whack is therapeutic in a very odd sort of way.  The above picture is proof of that.

There is also the alley behind our house.  It is under my jurisdiction too.  My weedeater and I visit the alley once a week.  My section of the alley way looks like a piece of desert in the midst of the Everglades.  I’m just saying some of my neighbors seem content with tall weeds behind their backyard fences.

 

 

 

 

 

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