Mikel LeFort
Forget the school system, square footage of the house, number of bedrooms ... the most important factor in buying a home in Auburn's city neighborhoods is: How often do your neighbors cut the grass?
Because as your front yard grows, it may not look like it needs cutting as you look out the front window from your living room. But look out the side windows and take one look at how it compares to your neighbors' grass.
Guilt by neighborhood association.
Beware of moving in next to retirees. Sure they seem like quiet, nice people at first blush, but they have nothing but time for "Wheel Of Fortune" and cutting their lawn.
Or you could wind up with the Joneses for neighbors. The minute you have finished cutting your grass and are rolling your mower back to the garage, the Joneses are out front re-cutting their lawn. They set their mower at the lowest possible buzzcut setting, ensuring that your freshly cut lawn now looks unkempt by comparison.
This has been our second summer in our new house, and my personally accepted and approved schedule for mowing had traditionally been once every week to 10 days. Max. During this wonderfully parched summer, maybe once every two weeks.
I look out the window at my lawn on a Saturday morning and often try and convince myself, "Ahhh, it doesn't need it yet." Or if that wouldn't ease my conscience, I'd step out on the porch, look to the skies and search for rain clouds. If that failed, I'd turn on the Weather Channel and search for rain somewhere west of Auburn. "Look honey, there's a bad storm system just passing through Denver and it looks like it's in a hurry. I'm going to hold off."
But when you live in Auburn's city neighborhoods where the houses are closer than a presidential election, you can't make excuses. Even if your postage stamp-sized lawn is only 2 inches high, if your neighbors cut theirs to 1 1/2 inches, your lawn will look like PGA Tour rough compared to the fairways on either side. Those driving down your block would figure your house was vacant or a foreclosure.
It's on days like those that I envy people who live in the wide open spaces of Sempronius, Venice, and Conquest, where the deer and the antelope play and seldom is heard a discouraging word about the height of their grass.
But in Auburn, especially on our busy street, your lawn is on display each day. People would know if you weren't timely with your trimming. And they would point. And report you to whatever city agency oversees lawn height.
This is why homes with adjacent vacant lots are more expensive in Auburn. Men are willing to pay more to be next to an empty lot with an overgrown lawn. Four to five extra days of mow-free, guilt-free living? That feature is worth more to a savvy home buyer than a screened-in patio deck.
Keeping up with the Joneses' lawn was an issue last summer. I was always an embarrassing couple inches behind.
Thankfully, this Amazon summer has dried out and killed nearly every lawn in its path. The time between mowings has been wonderfully longer than any summer in recent memory, and I have been able to spend more quality time with my couch and my clickers.
As I have looked out my window, I now no longer have to worry as much about comparisons to the neighbors' lawns.
Nothing much has grown in this heat and humidity.
Although their dead grass does appear to be a better shade of brown.
Darn Joneses.
Editor Mikel LeFort can be reached at 253-5311 ext. 230 or e-mail mikel.lefort@lee.net
Because as your front yard grows, it may not look like it needs cutting as you look out the front window from your living room. But look out the side windows and take one look at how it compares to your neighbors' grass.
Guilt by neighborhood association.
Beware of moving in next to retirees. Sure they seem like quiet, nice people at first blush, but they have nothing but time for "Wheel Of Fortune" and cutting their lawn.
Or you could wind up with the Joneses for neighbors. The minute you have finished cutting your grass and are rolling your mower back to the garage, the Joneses are out front re-cutting their lawn. They set their mower at the lowest possible buzzcut setting, ensuring that your freshly cut lawn now looks unkempt by comparison.
This has been our second summer in our new house, and my personally accepted and approved schedule for mowing had traditionally been once every week to 10 days. Max. During this wonderfully parched summer, maybe once every two weeks.
I look out the window at my lawn on a Saturday morning and often try and convince myself, "Ahhh, it doesn't need it yet." Or if that wouldn't ease my conscience, I'd step out on the porch, look to the skies and search for rain clouds. If that failed, I'd turn on the Weather Channel and search for rain somewhere west of Auburn. "Look honey, there's a bad storm system just passing through Denver and it looks like it's in a hurry. I'm going to hold off."
But when you live in Auburn's city neighborhoods where the houses are closer than a presidential election, you can't make excuses. Even if your postage stamp-sized lawn is only 2 inches high, if your neighbors cut theirs to 1 1/2 inches, your lawn will look like PGA Tour rough compared to the fairways on either side. Those driving down your block would figure your house was vacant or a foreclosure.
It's on days like those that I envy people who live in the wide open spaces of Sempronius, Venice, and Conquest, where the deer and the antelope play and seldom is heard a discouraging word about the height of their grass.
But in Auburn, especially on our busy street, your lawn is on display each day. People would know if you weren't timely with your trimming. And they would point. And report you to whatever city agency oversees lawn height.
This is why homes with adjacent vacant lots are more expensive in Auburn. Men are willing to pay more to be next to an empty lot with an overgrown lawn. Four to five extra days of mow-free, guilt-free living? That feature is worth more to a savvy home buyer than a screened-in patio deck.
Keeping up with the Joneses' lawn was an issue last summer. I was always an embarrassing couple inches behind.
Thankfully, this Amazon summer has dried out and killed nearly every lawn in its path. The time between mowings has been wonderfully longer than any summer in recent memory, and I have been able to spend more quality time with my couch and my clickers.
As I have looked out my window, I now no longer have to worry as much about comparisons to the neighbors' lawns.
Nothing much has grown in this heat and humidity.
Although their dead grass does appear to be a better shade of brown.
Darn Joneses.
Editor Mikel LeFort can be reached at 253-5311 ext. 230 or e-mail mikel.lefort@lee.net
