A group of us were chatting the other evening about the changing of seasons, and our friend who is a recent transplant from Manhattan to Chadds Ford is realizing that he is going to have to mow his lawn -- a new challenge for the former urbanite.
Let the yard dry out a little, a friend advised; you don't want the tractor making ruts.
I suggested that he hire a lawn service, but he rejected that idea forcefully: he is bound and determined to become a suburbanite.
Another friend looked over at me skeptically.
"Right," he said. "Let's see what he says in a few months."