Though it is my first inclination, I don't have to say anything cruel about the great American lawn. I could. But I don't have to.
Out here in Saint Minneapolis, America's 19th largest city, the rain has been light, and the days warm. The lawns are burning out. To stop this, the well-heeled home owners, morning and night, water the sidewalks. My wonderful wife and I walk along many times each day, in the long holiday weekend and observe: What very wet sidewalks!
And then we are distracted by all the cute bunnies.
It is a great time of year for bunnies.
But anyway, as I look out on all the struggling lawns, turning to yellow, and sometimes straw, and even to deathly white, I think: Wow, I guess it is a far drier Summer than I thought.
But having spent a childhood in something that was technically a desert, it is hard to believe that "Gosh, it's been a few days since it rained!" is a proper drought.
I'm beginning to think that grass is unreasonable in its demands.
Go down by the creeks and woods, nay even walk along the city's abandoned alleyways and all is as lush and verdant as a rainforest!
And as to the sidewalks?
It is all death and ants.