Yep it’s officially spring. Birds and high school students are all twitter patted, pollen is filling the air, attention spans are next to nothing, and thunderstorms keep you up all night. Man I love spring!

We received 3.5 inches of rain the last few days, both in big thunderstorms with hail, and lots of steady rain, the kind of rain that washes all the dust, smog and pollen out of the air and leaves nothing but the feeling the world around you just took a huge deep breath. Its almost like the world is just getting ready to explode into action. I love the way the world looks the morning after a long rain, green, clean and fresh. It’s amazing that you literally can see the grass growing. Of course having the grass starting to grow means I will soon be hitched up to the modern equivalent of the old yoke… the lawn mower.

As soon as the grass begins to start growing, a sudden urge begins to over take suburban males… The quest for the perfect lawn begins to fill the hearts of homeowners all across this great nation of ours. Guys begin to scout out our competition, (that damn neighbor who always has the lawn that looks like it’s the 18th green at Pebble Beach!) and start looking to find the edge that will catapult us ahead of that damn guy who everyone knows has to cheat and get professionals to come in and make that lawn look so perfect. We all know him… he is the guy who is out early on Saturday morning, double cutting his lawn to make that perfect pattern, and to make sure he doesn’t leave any stray blades of grass trailing in the wind. He is the neighbor who always manages to get the border between his concrete and lawn to look like someone drew the edge with a ruler. He is the guy that never gets any of those special splashes of yellow in his yard, while the rest of us battle to keep those little yellow bastards from turning into windborne WMDs! How does he do it? Well my deep dark secret is I want to be that guy! I secretly yearn to be the guy all the neighbors cuss at when they see me out there enjoying the fruits of my labors, standing on my driveway with a cold Shiner Bock with a smirk on my face.

Is this to much to ask?