The days became cooler and shorter, the nights cooler still and longer. David stood on the small walk that led to his front door, watering a lawn with too many brown spots and a ragged edge. Even before he had left for Africa, the lawn had been a challenge. He spent many hours mowing it, trimming it, feeding it ammonium sulfate, spraying it for bugs, and watering it, but like an unruly child the lawn insisted on growing unevenly and yielding its green beauty miserly. Still, it was his lawn, and David felt the need to maintain it the best he could, if for no other reason than his neighbors’ sake. Unsuccessful as he was with growing a lawn that could grace the cover of Home and Garden magazine (or in this case House and Scrub magazine), he did enjoy the simple act of watering. Like most yards in his neighborhood, his was equipped with a sprinkler system, but David often watered by hand. There was something therapeutic about unwinding a hose, turning on the bibb, and watching water spray from the red plastic nozzle.
