Somewhere That's Green

Friday evening, when I got home from work it was drizzling a little bit, so I thought I'd just walk around the block and stay close to home just in case the skies opened up.

I opened my front door and turned left, like I always do. A creature of habit I guess.


I was greeting by the sight of some flowers in my flower bed. I learned long ago I had a black thumb, so I just let what ever is growing...grow. My rose bush is full of blooms and buds. I inhaled deeply.


Around the base of my house, these flowers grow in profusion.


After finally leaving my yard behind me, I spotted two rabbits on my next door neighbor's yard. I was struck by how green things were. A song from a broadway show entered my head - a silly one from the Little Shop of Horrors - sung by Ellen Green - whose name is so fitting - and I sang along with it as I walked.

I know Seymour's the greatest
But I'm dating a semi-sadist
So I've got a black eye
And my arm's in a cast.


Still, that Seymour's a cutie
Well, if not, he's got inner beauty
And I dream of a place
Where we could be together at last.


A matchbox of our own
A fence of real chain link,
A grill out on the patio
Disposal in the sink
A washer and a dryer and an ironing machine
In a tract house that we share
Somewhere that's green.


He rakes and trims the grass
He loves to mow and weed
I cook like Betty Crocker
And I look like Donna Reed.


There's plastic on the furniture
To keep it neat and clean
In the Pine-Sol scented air
Somewhere that's green.


Between our frozen dinner
And our bedtime, nine-fifteen
We snuggle watchin' Lucy
On our big, enormous twelve-inch screen!


I'm his December Bride
He's Father, he Knows Best
Our kids watch Howdy Doody!


As the sun sets in the west
A picture out of Better Homes and Gardens magazine...


Far from Skid Row
I dream we'll go
somewhere that's greeeeeeeeeeen.


I suspect all the neighbors lock their doors when they see me coming up the sidewalk. Some might even use their panic rooms.


But then when I get to the "Mr. and Mrs. Cow's House", so named because of their mailbox, I don't feel quite so odd. I'm not sure what effect they are going for with their front lawn.


This house is covered with old signs bearing ads for John Deere and other tractor companies.