‘I am letting the street down’: Max Futcher on why he’s a bad neighbour

It’s a jungle out there and I’m feeling the pressure to improve appearances and not let my street down, writes Max Futcher.

Max Futcher. Picture: Tara Croser.

Rain can make me anxious, and not because we live in a flood-prone area. Wet grass is the source of my anxiety. It can’t be mown, and the steamy conditions mean it’ll just keep growing at an extraordinary rate.

My back yard is already ankle-deep, and I fear the weatherman will say there’s a whole week of rain ahead.

Our small dog is swimming neck-deep through the lush lawn, and she might get lost the next time she answers the call of nature.

It’s a jungle out the back, but it’s the front yard I’m really worried about, because that’s the part everyone can see.

To neighbours and passers-by, the house is starting to look like we’re away on holidays, or maybe we’ve abandoned the place.

I can feel their thoughts. They don’t need to say a word. I know the question playing on their mind.

“When is he going to mow the grass?”

The big question: when can I mow?

It’s true, I am letting the street down. Maybe I should pay someone called Jim to do the job for me, but something in my upbringing just can’t allow that to happen.

I don’t service my own car; I can’t fix the plumbing. Yard work seems like my last
connection to a bygone era when I was capable of manual labour.

Some weekends, the grass will still be wet from a rain event that swamped Brisbane during the week. Then it’ll rain again.

I’ll check the weather forecast and look for a ray of hope, a bit of sunshine.

Recently, when the forecast looked promising, I got up early, pulled on my yard clothes and boots, and got ready to attack the jungle. But when I marched onto the back lawn, it was soaked in dew. Downcast and in a daze, I was startled by a sudden rustling in the long reeds.

The dog emerged from the undergrowth, having enjoyed the privacy of the tall foliage to relieve herself.

What could I do?

I went inside and Googled for a solution. “Mowing wet grass” I typed, and the answer was unanimous. “No.”

Incredibly, there was even an article from The Washington Post telling me not to do it.

Closer to home, the mob at Jimboomba Turf Group stated explicitly: “Never mow wet grass.”

“Mowing a wet yard can cause lots of damage to your yard.

“Clippings clump everywhere and your mower can leave indents across your lawn. More importantly, cutting wet grass opens up your lawn to disease.”

Apparently, the leaves of grass could be bruised, and our yard infested with fungus. Fungus? I only just got rid of the lawn grubs.

Their advice was to wait until the grass dries, so let’s look at that forecast again.

Showers or rain all week.

By the time I get to mow, the yard will be knee deep, overrun with weeds and we’ll need a GPS to find the dog.

The forecast for Saturday has a graphic icon which shows a little sun poking out behind a cloud. It’s a potential break in the weather, so like thousands of households across the southeast, that’s when I’ll take my chance.

Mowers will rattle to life across Brisbane in a suburban symphony. Lawns will be groomed. Marriages will be saved. Neighbours will respect
me again.

Until then, I’ll be lounging on the couch instead of cutting the couch.

And I can almost hear the grass out there, getting longer in the back yard.

Growing.

Growing.

I feel like it’s mocking me, but I need patience, as I know my time will come.

Watching grass grow is a common cliche for something that’s boring. But for some of us, it’s a backyard cliffhanger.