Having your own home is an American dream, unless your neighbor thinks she owns your yard. My friend had her son mow it without being asked, and then she wanted $50. She tried to get me to agree, but I told her no. Sometimes it’s harder to learn when the mirror is turned around on you.
Once I got to my new house, the late-afternoon sun was beating down on my neck. I’m now 29 years old and finally own my own home. What a big step! Even though the two-bedroom house in Oakridge Estates wasn’t fancy, every mortgage payment, creaky floorboard, and blade of grass was mine.
I turned off the car and sat there for a while to take it all in. I had lived there for three weeks, but it still hadn’t hit me how real it was. The “For Sale” sign was gone, and my favorite flower beds took its place.
As soon as I got out of my car, I heard the clear buzz of a lawnmower. Strange. I didn’t think gardeners would show up. I stopped short as I came around the corner of my house.
A tall teen was pushing a lawnmower across my front yard. He had already cut through half of it in neat lines. He wasn’t paying attention to me yet because he had wireless earbuds stuck in his ears and was working on something.
I moved slowly toward him and waved to get his attention.
When he finally looked up, I said, “Hey there.”
There was a boy, maybe 13 or 14, who took out an earring. The heat made his face red, and sweat drenched his brown hair.
“Hi,” he said, letting the mower run on its own.
I said, “My name is Alex, and this is the house.” “This is where I live.” What did I miss? “Why are you cutting my grass?”
The kid moved around uncomfortably and looked down at his shoes before looking up at me again.
“My name is Tyler.” The blue colonial across the street is where I live, he said. “For extra money, I mow lawns around the neighborhood.” Most of the time, people give me $50.
“Fifty?”
Tyler’s shoulders slouched a little. “Okay, well…” To be honest, I’d be fine with 10. My mom says I should always ask for fifty, though. “That’s how much she thinks it’s worth.”
I looked at my half-mowed yard for a moment and then back at the kid. He looked with eyes that were both hopeful and sad.
“Look, Tyler, I appreciate your effort, but I didn’t really ask you to cut my grass.” This weekend, I was going to do it myself.
“Oh.” His face got sad. “My mom said it needed work.” She believed you would be thankful.
“I won’t pay you for work I didn’t ask for.” If you do this again, make sure you ask before you start the job, okay?”
Tyler nodded, and his face turned red with shame. He said, “Sorry to bother you.” “Let me go.”
As I watched him push the lawnmower across the street, I felt a little guilty, even though I knew I was right.
I was having coffee in the kitchen the next morning when the doorbell rang. It wasn’t just a nice press; it was being leaned on, and the chime kept going off in a loop that was annoying and made me rush to answer.
The woman was in her early 40s and stood on my porch with her arms crossed over her chest.
“May I assist you?”
“My name is Julie, and I’m Tyler’s mom.” I think you said you wouldn’t pay my son for the work he did yesterday. WHAT DO YOU DO? He mowed your whole yard!”
I took a big breath. “Hey, Julie. My name is Alex. I moved in not long ago.
“I know you.” I don’t get why you’d take advantage of a 13-year-old boy.
“What am I sorry for?” I never took advantage of anyone.
“Tyler cut your whole front lawn for free, and you sent him home!”
“Actually, he only mowed half of it,” I said, feeling bad right away about how small my comment sounded. It’s more important that I never asked him to mow it. “I didn’t ask for that service.”
Julie’s eyes got very dark. “So what?” It was nice of him to help you. It looked like your lawn was awful. The whole street was getting worse. That’s why I told him to handle it.
The pieces fit together well. It wasn’t Tyler’s idea at all… He was sent by his mother.
“Look, I understand that you care about how the neighborhood looks, but you can’t just send your kid to work on my property without asking… then ask for payment.”
“That’s called being a good neighbor!” she yelled. It’s clear that you don’t understand this. It’s more than fair to charge $50.
“Being a good neighbor would mean introducing yourself when I moved in by knocking on my door.” Or they asked if they could help me mow my yard. Not assuming things and then getting mad when they don’t work out.
Her cheeks turned red. “Well, I never—”
“Look, I’m not paying for a service I didn’t ask for.” That’s the end. But please let Tyler know I don’t mean any harm.
Julie’s eyes were very bright. “You’ll feel bad about this,” she told me, then turned around and walked down my path.
I called after her, “Nice to meet you too,” and then I sighed and shut my door. So much for peace in the neighborhood.
***
As the weekend came around, a thought started to form. Based on her standards, Julie thought my property needed to be fixed up. What if I did the same for you?
I stood across the street early on Saturday morning with a coffee in my hand and looked at Julie’s front yard. It was well taken care of, but there were too many yard ornaments on it: Garden gnomes with shiny wings looked out from behind bushes. Flamingos made of pink plastic stood tall and straight. In handwritten script, a big wooden sign said “Live Laugh Love.” It was clear from space.
It looked tacky. Too much. And by my own standards of beauty, it was a problem that needed to be fixed.
I waited for Julie’s car to pull out of the driveway, and then Tyler’s bike soon after. Wonderful. The “Lawn Makeover” plan worked.
Extra care was taken as I gathered every ornament. The gnomes, the flamingos, and the signs that make you feel good. I carefully put them in boxes I had saved from my move and labeled each one.
By noon, her yard was clean, simple, and classy, just the way I liked it.
The boxes were put away in my garage, and I sat down to wait.
That night, the scream came.
“WHATHAVE I DONE WITH MY YARD?!?”
I made a new cup of coffee and went outside to lean casually against the railing of my porch.
Julie stood in the middle of her yard and spun around in shock. She ran across the street like a bull on the loose when she saw me watching.
“Where are they?” Where are my gnomes? My flamingos? It’s all gone, everything!”
I sipped my coffee slowly. “Oh, I took them off!”
She opened her mouth wide. “You…wha…?”
“I took them off!” The street looked crowded because of them. They didn’t look good to me. I thought I’d help you out.
Her face changed from pink to a deep red color. “You HAVE NO RIGHT to touch MY stuff! That is… that is theft! That’s breaking the law! Were you not able to see the sign?”
“Interesting point of view!” Thought. “I was just being nice to my neighbor.” It looks like approval and property lines aren’t that important around here.
In her eyes, understanding came on quickly, then anger. “This is not at all like that!”
“Is it?” Without asking me, you decided that my yard needed to be mowed. Without asking you, I decided that your ornaments needed to be taken down. “The same idea, right?”
“I’m going to call the police.”
“Don’t do that yet; your gnomes and flamingos are safe in my garage…” sealed in boxes and marked. I’m ready to give them back right now. We could also both call the police. Remember the first person who crossed the line.
Julie looked at me blankly, maybe for the first time since I met her.
At that moment, Tyler slowed down as he rode up on his bike. He could feel the strain. He looked with worry between his mother and me.
I put down my coffee cup and called Tyler, “Hey.” “Have a minute?”
He slowly walked up to her, making sure to keep his mother in his peripheral vision.
I took out my wallet and took out $50. “This is for you.” “For the other day.”
Tyler’s eyes got bigger. “Really?” But you said—
“Guy, I know what I said.” I still think you should always ask permission before working on someone else’s land. You worked hard, though, and I don’t want you to feel like your work isn’t appreciated.
I put the money out there. “Just remember that next time, you should always ask first.” We can figure something out if I need someone to take care of my lawn. You work hard and seem like a good kid.
Tyler took a quick look at his mother, who was watching in complete silence, and then turned back to me. With a shy smile, he took the money. “Thank you, Mr. Alex.” And… “I’m sorry for everything.”
“Not your fault.” We’re okay!”
Julie turned around and went back to her house without saying a word.
Tyler stayed a little longer. “Mom gets… very angry sometimes.” “She means well.”
I said yes. “Most people do.” Hey, could you help me put those things away? I’ll add twenty more.
His face got better. “Sure, why not?”
We worked together all afternoon to make Julie’s yard look like it did when it was first built. Even though she never went outside, I sometimes saw the curtains move.
***
A week went by with nothing happening. Julie stayed away from me totally and crossed the street whenever we were about to meet. Tyler, on the other hand, would be shy and wave when we saw each other.
Then, one night, as I was watering my freshly mowed yard (which I did, thank you very much!), a tray of cookies and a handwritten note showed up on my porch:
“These are for you.” Tyler made them. Not me. But I told him to bring them over. – J”
It wasn’t an apology, but I thought that was as close as I’d get from Julie.
Around the edges, the cookies were a little burnt. I still ate them.
When people are put in someone else’s shoes, it’s interesting how quickly their views change. Whether they are land lines or lines of respect, boundaries are important. My first lesson as a homeowner wasn’t about mortgage rates or when to mow the yard. It was about being firm while still being willing to help.
Even the yard gnomes—at the end of the day, we’re all just people trying to make our own way in the world.
