If you don't like it, you don't get it

Saturday was our first lawn-mowing of the season. Somehow in the past two weeks our winter stubble has grown to something of a green savanna. So off I went in the riding mower, a task I find quite fun - sort of like riding the bumper cars at the amusement park.
I started mowing the lawn a few years ago. I know that most people, Rob included, make nice straight lines with the mower, and the grass has a lovely uniform pattern when completed. I prefer a more avant-garde approach. Rather than moving back and forth in straight rows, I make circles around the perimeter and then move inward. Have you ever seen the Spiral Jetty in the Great Salt Lake? Very similar technique. I like texture in my lawn. I don't cut each swath the same length. I miss a few spots here and there for effect. I leave the grass around the close edges of the house and the swingset long. We don't have a bag on our mower. Rob and I prefer that the cut grass fall in random patterns. It's an organic look, enriching our lawn while adding additional texture to the overall scene.

My neighbors shake their heads and smile, thinking I just don't know how to mow a lawn. Not so. It's a consious choice. It's art. Here in the suburbs of the midwest, everyone mows their lawn the same way. That's fine, but it's sort of like a museum full of watercolor landscapes. They are beautiful, but after awhile you long for a Rothko Square, or the rhythm of Jackson Pollack, or a Calder sculpture. And that is the gift I give my neighbors all summer long. Contemporary. Abstract. Dare I say? Edgy.