Mystery Strangers Cut My Lawn

I don’t know if it was done sarcastically or supportively

If I did cut grass I’d want to look this cool- zoff on Shutterstock.com

I hadn’t cut my lawn in several weeks, and it was not the Pride of the Neighbourhood. Such grass as survived between the scruffy weeds and bare yellow patches left by urinating dogs had grown long. And not long in a “I’m letting my yard go back to nature to aid the environment” way, but in a “I’m running a meth lab and lawn care is the least of my concerns” way.

This unfortunate tableau was complemented by my scarred relic of a porch, all peeling paint and rotting boards, which juts out into the yard like some ancient shipwreck on a desolate shore.

Still, the lawn measures no more than ten feet by six feet, with a small tree in the middle that occupies a good portion of it. Such a tiny thing, I reasoned, was barely noticeable amidst the sea of well-tended yards and gardens along my street.

But someone noticed.

Last Thursday I came home from the office at around 6:15 and observed something unexpected. The grass was perceptibly shorter than it had been when I’d left eleven hours earlier, and there were trimmings on the sidewalk. I stared at it intently, furrowing my brow to enhance concentration, and concluded that someone had definitely been at it with a lawnmower. Not competently, to be honest —…