When I was a kid, I played on my dad’s grass. That was fine with him. When I started getting older and I learned to drive, I sometimes drove (accidentally! we had a long driveway!!) on my dad’s grass. I don’t think it bothered him, since he never yelled at us for anything other than when I’d drive over his sprinkler system and he had to reset the sprinklers.
And even though we played on the grass and sometimes drove on it, he still managed to have the most beautiful lawn I’ve ever seen. Each blade of grass was the same height and thickness, no clover or dandelions, just beautiful green lawn. He really took pride in that lawn.
Which is why I got really cheesed off when I read this story about a man who killed a kid for walking on his lawn. The man who did the killing said he really cared about his lawn. Funny, I doubt he’ll have any space for growing grass in prison, eh?
I read this story too and thought wow that is taking our obsession with the lawn way over the top.