I mowed Sunday afternoon. I was told I was mad. It was 32⁰ in the shade. It had to be done though – the yard was a proto-jungle, and I had started getting paranoid about snakes again, as you do, in this part of the world.
The grass had grown more in the last two weeks than I had ever seen in an equivalent period. Previously irreparably bare sandy patches (bloody dog) had accumulated 6 inches of grass for example, which, while superficially refreshing, served really only to conceal the ankle-turning deathtraps the dog’s excavations had wrought.
Even when we used to go to the coast for a whole month over Christmas when I was a kid the grass never got this long. The plants have gone mad, too. I swear the monsterio has doubled in size.
As I battled to cut through it, stopping every 5 minutes or so to put the mower’s cracked and perished spark-plug cap back on after it had fallen off, and getting a zap from the magneto half the time for my trouble (patience is a virtue), I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on. Soon, a cold, creeping fear began to come over me…..of what might be happening to our world such that everything would grow in such a way…..could we be facing….
It seems clear that if our current rate of CO2 output continues, we are going to be overrun by grass. Couch, Kikuyu, Paspalum, Crab Grass. We’ll be up to our arses in grasses. And not in a good way. We’ll be mowing every day of the week. Well, our kids will, obviously. But it’ll be tough to sit in the aircon and watch.
Then the full, unthinkable implications hit me. If the worst-case scenario comes to pass and the icecaps in Antarctica and Greenland melt……some poor bastard will have to bloody MOW them. And I can tell you right now, IT’S NOT GOING TO BE ME. So we need to do something NOW. I just hope we can reverse this before the Arabs run out of two-stroke.
If we can’t keep this frightening phenomenon in check, then eventually someone is going to have a full-time job cutting down all of the bloody rain-forest trees that have a nasty habit of springing up whenever it gets a bit warm. And then you’ll have to muck about chasing out all of those pesky pygmy tribes that seem to turn up every time you get rainforest. They get everywhere if you don’t watch them. Cunning little buggers.
THEN we’ll be up to our necks in cheap heavy bloody timber furniture our wives will want shifted around the house until it looks just right in the first place you tried it. Orthopaedic surgeons, chainsaw manufacturers, and mower repairmen everywhere are rubbing their house-extension blueprints with glee.
It has been several generations since we have faced anything so serious. I don’t know how this will end. But all we can do is train our kids from birth to counter this threat with vigorous and ongoing use of garden implements. We owe it to our future.