The Neighbors’ Lovely Lawns
I loved to go to my grandparents’ home. They had sponges that we stacked like blocks, and a toy where marbles rolled back-and-forth down a little track, until they reached the bottom. We played pick up sticks, colored in the coloring books with many colored pencils, markers, and crayons. We also played checkers, Chinese checkers, Sorry and many other classic games. Outside their home in Garland, Utah was a great sandbox, a yard for playing football, baseball with plastic bats, and an incredible apricot tree that leaned over the sandbox and how we loved to climb it. Grandpa’s lawn was always beautiful, no weeds and always cut perfectly. He lived in an area where the snow fell regularly and deep. His sidewalks and driveway were always clear of snow. Of the many fun memories, another stands out. It is the time I began to recognize the beauty of the neighbors’ lawns. No matter where he lived—no matter the season, their lawns were equal to his. The grass was always amazingly green, weed fre...