Week One: Nature and Stuff.

"All my life I have tried to pluck a thistle and plant a flower wherever the flower would grow in thought and mind."
~ Abraham Lincoln

As I pull into the driveway from a long day of work, I take a second to enjoy the breeze coming through the windows. As someone who wears an all black uniform, drives an all black Jeep, with a black leather interior, no A/C and a malfunctioning sunroof, I have learned to appreciate a nice breeze. 

I reach forward, sliding the automatic shifter into reverse. The Jeep backs slowly out of the driveway, and I pull partially onto the yard, right where I have worn the grass away. As I step out of the Jeep, I look around the overgrown mess of the yard, knowing that it should have been mowed more than once this summer, but not having the heart to really care. I realize that others probably look down on such a massive jungle of yard, but I actually quite enjoy it. My lawn is a kingdom all it's own; an ecosystem within a quaint, suburban sprawl. 

So up to the house, I journey. I wade through the tall grass, eventually making my way to the wooden front stars, moving the branches of the mutant front bushes out of my way as I go. 

Upon entering the house, I realize two things right from the jump: One of these things is that the boy-child still hasn't done shit to take care of the giant pile of Lego blocks that the room is slowly morphing into. The other is that the dog (the goddamned dog), is in his crate, and that there is what seems to be dirt and mud leading from it, to what I can only assume is a trail going all the way to the back door. 

My logic is not mistaken.

I follow the trail to the back door, where I look out into something that more closely resembles the jungles of Vietnam, than a nice white house on Normal Street. Here, the grass and weeds grow so high that one needs a machete to safely navigate the terrain. In this back yards, the grass cuts you. In this back yard, your house is the REAL back yard, and nature is both King and Queen of her household. 

All of this takes place in my head in the...maybe ten seconds it takes me to find what I'm looking for. And find it, I most certainly do. 

A few feet beyond the doorway into the mystical kingdom that is my back yard, there is a giant hole, and around it, what I can only assume are the manic claw marks of a certain white Boxer pup. 

The hole is about three feet wide, and easily deep enough to bury said Boxer pup in. At times, I'm certain that he is digging his own grave, though the thought of him actually digging his own grave is absolutely hilarious to me. 

I take a deep breath and turn around. As I re-enter the house, the irony that the days work is never finished dawns on me. True, I have returned from work, and in the brief period between finishing one job and starting another, I got a brief glimpse of nature; the workings and beauty of the world. As I prepare a towel, grab the cleaning spray, and prepare to reprimand the dog, I take a look out of the window, knowing that I will not be breathing in another breath of fresh air until tomorrow.....when I head out to the all black Jeep, with the black leather interior, wearing my all black uniform, to do it all over again.