Their Grass is Greener. Really.

We don’t live in Wisteria lane exactly, but we could easily pass for the adjacent one. The underlying suburban traits are so obvious, and the competition is maddening. The landscaping is our lane’s favorite summer thing, and I’m fast discovering, my favorite summer peeve. We usually take solace from the fact that our front door neighbors are not in the mad race either. Our lawn and existing landscaping was quickly achieving a very Wild Garden look (that is a type of garden – a certain William Robinson declared it. My kinda guy). I helped Mr.G name the look we were going for and went right back to choosing rugs for the living room...not the hubby, he was losing serious sleep over this. But it’s been a busy year, to put it lightly.

The arrival of his mother brought a couple of things to light. For him, it was the fact that maybe there was one solution; his mother could water the lawn! And for me, I figured our where the passive-aggressive streak of competition in him comes from. It began slowly. She wondered aloud the first week about when the neighbors water their lawns as she doesn’t see anybody do it. I explained automatic sprinklers, reiterating the fact that it has been a busy year for us. Her face fell at first but quickly changed to fierce determination. A couple of weeks ago, she asked about beautiful boulders in other people’s front yards and the topic of professional landscapers came around. This time, the determination was mingled with anxiety.

Last weekend we were at the Boston Commons enjoying Shakespeare in the open...this was my first time watching “Taming of the Shrew”. As we spread our blankets and I settled down to an evening minus baby, I caught MrG staring at the grass. “It’s just Bluegrass Rough...not even Kentucky! But still pretty green, huh?” I sighed.

The next morning, I wake up to see MrG and his mom at the windows. I make my coffee and go to stand next to them to see what is keeping them there. Our front door buddies, our comrades in crime, have crossed over! They have hired professional landscapers who have driven up in a huge truck. Some 6 men jump out and roll out yards and yards of Rye carpet grass. In the course of the next few hours, voices are high strung and there is undeniable jitteriness in our home. Our neighbor waved to my husband, grinning. And needless to say, the landscapers drove away leaving behind the nicest lawn on our neighbor’s side of the street, and two very pissed off people on this side of it.

Its 11 PM as I write this and the mother and the son are in the yard, turning off our manual hose sprinkler. There has been much discussion on professional yard maintenance and landscaping. Our neighbor had apparently waved again, grinning. MrG gets on Local Google.

I take my opening line back – we could pass for Wisteria lane itself. Though the housewives are a tad laidback here, the desperate husbands are aplenty.