Wednesday, April 21, 2010


Haki sauntered out the front door Sunday morning, a piece of honey-rye toast high in hand, to stand upon our door stoop and look over our estate (/scoff - read: "front yard").

He then called to me, back in the kitchen; "Uuuuh...honey?"

I joined him on the steps to behold the scene.

These were the possible explanations I conjured as I stared;
  • There must be some drainlaying project going on that no one informed us of.
  • Or maybe a straying dog was quite sure we had his bone?
  • Or did a sleep-walking golfer find himself in a vivid, imagined bunker-prison? Those are some serious divets.
  • It's so long since Easter...could a group of eager hunters have mistaken the place and time for their gregarious search?
  • Perhaps the mat thieves from The House Fixaroo site have followed us, and determined our new mats must be "cleverly hidden" at our new home.
  • I was right, Cinderella did used to live here, and her bitter step-sisters believe she buried all her treasure (glass slippers, spare crowns, you know...) somewhere here.
  • Or Jack Sparrow, for that matter, while we're at it. Treasure-digging of some sort appears to have taken place, why not throw Jack in the kitty?
...It was at this point in my conjuring that Esky called for our return from her high chair.

I phoned our neighbours. It's what Nancy Drew would do.

I learned from them the true cause of the lawnnihilation; a wild pig was spotted heading down our shared-access driveway in the early hours of the same morning. That's right, a wild pig bowled up our drive, through the garden gate, and into our yard to have a good narf narf for grubs, and then went about his business elsewhere. Or her business. There ain't no business like a pig's business.

Mystery = solved. Right?

Almost immediately all of the feelings I had about the state of the lawn were forgotten...and all I could think about was a missed opportunity for free bacon.


I told you I lived out in the country.
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