My daughter has been mowing our lawn for nearly four years. From the beginning, she was able and willing to mow better and faster than I at her age.
*sigh*
However, as she started the current mowing season a few months ago, her concentration seems to have been elsewhere. One day, having an extraordinary amount of time on my hands (because none of the things I should have been doing appealed to me), I wrote "A Most Brief Message" in an attempt to humorously get her attention.
To: Princess Justine of the Realm of K (which is not to be confused with the very merry band of minstrels known far and wide as the Reliant of K)
With a Copy To: Her Exalted Highness the Queen, She Who Must Be Obeyed, Chef Extraordinaire, Lover of All Things Furred Except The Furniture, Devotee of the Gaming Tables in the Far-Off, Though Friendly Kingdom of The Vegas, etc., etc.
From: The Royal Groundskeeper
Regarding: Her esteemed and dutiful role as the chief assistant to the Royal Groundskeeper
Thus dated: The twenty-first day of the merry month of May, the year of our Lord, 2009
Your Highness, Princess Justine of the Realm of K:
As the Royal Groundskeeper, and my thus being subordinate to the Royal Gardener, who, we are pleased to remember, is one of the Titles of the Realm held in highest honor, esteem and pleasure by Her Exalted Highness the Queen, She Who Must Be Obeyed, Chef Extraordinaire, Lover of All Things Furred Except The Furniture, Devotee of the Gaming Tables in the Far-Off, Though Friendly Kingdom of The Vegas, etc., etc. it has for these past many years been my duty and my most extreme pleasure to teach you what little I can of the art of Lawn Maintenance.
It has been my privilege over these past many years to remark to those far and wide, yeah frequently any who would stop to listen, of your prodigious skill at such a young age in handling the smoke belching beasts known by their origins as Ariens and Toro, and the by the more familiar monikers of “Hound Chaser” and “What Was That I Just Ran Over?” You have indeed proven yourself to be a fine pupil of the art of Lawn Maintenance and I foresee great happiness in your future whenever and wherever in this world you may choose to ply this most noble of skills.
Alas and forsooth, it grieves me most personally to bring your Royal Highness' attention that your skills may be the suffering the slightest, the smallest, the merest, most infinitesimal bit for the nonce. I beg your Royal Highness' forgiveness as I must require of you your delicate though most sincerely princess-like attention to matters the realm once upon a time considered under your most sincere and studious mastery in the hopes that we may once again enjoy the grand parades and celebrations and generally well-trimmed greenery that in times past accompanied your regular, even in times of great rain, warmth and sunshine, frequent completion of the event known far and wide as The Grand Tour of the Realm's Outermost Boundaries.
If it pleases Your Highness, I would like to contain within this most humble, modest and ever so brief communication a very few items of definition upon which I pray you may reflect and consider henceforth. We shall consider a few terms that must be defined before proceeding to matters more detailed. We consider most essential the following definitions for everything you may encounter during each completion of the event known far and wide as The Grand Tour of the Realm's Outermost Boundaries:
Green Stuff: This stuff be that which shall forever be resigned to suffer the horrible, but entertaining to the Royal Groundskeeper, indignity of being cut by the smoke belching beasts known by their origins as Ariens and Toro, and at times the by the more familiar monikers of “Hound Chaser” and “What Was That I Just Ran Over?”. This stuff must not be confused with Other Green Stuff (please see below for that definition). Furthermore, this stuff be that which resides in all those locations of the Realm today known as “Lawn” (“Potty” to the Realm's Hounds), as well as those locations which were, once upon a time known as “Lawn,” but have in ages long ago past had their purpose changed to such noble and distinct pursuits as “Tree Ring” and the vessel constructed for much merry-making, sometimes known by that most sinister name, “The Pit of Fire,” which I consider to be such a misnomer for a place in the Realm where many cigars and many barrels of the Realm's finest elixir have been enjoyed and, in fact, I recall one specific occasion when I reposed there with the Most Esteemed Lord Mark of P and I said to him... oh, pardon me, Your Highness... I must have succumbed to a moment of fanciful reflection. Please accept my most humble apologies, Your Highness. Now, where was I? Oh, yes – I recall it now.
Other Green Stuff: In this Realm this stuff very much resembles those things that may otherwise be known as Vegetables, Flowers, Shrubs, Bushes, Ground Cover or the like which the Royal Gardener, who we are pleased to remember is one of the Titles of the Realm held in highest honor by Her Exalted Highness the Queen, She Who Must Be Obeyed, Chef Extraordinaire, Lover of All Things Furred Except The Furniture, Devotee of the Gaming Tables in the Far-Off, Though Friendly Kingdom of The Vegas, etc., etc., has placed or instructed to be placed in various locations surrounded by Lawn, or not, within the Realm. This stuff must never upon the pain of that which only by Her Exalted Highness the Queen, She Who Must Be Obeyed, Chef Extraordinaire, Lover of All Things Furred Except The Furniture, Devotee of the Gaming Tables in the Far-Off, Though Friendly Kingdom of The Vegas, etc., etc. can conceive, suffer the indignity of being cut by the smoke belching beasts known by their origins as Ariens and Toro, and by the more familiar monikers of “Hound Chaser” and “What Was That I Just Ran Over?”
Brown Stuff: This stuff be that which shall be collected and placed in those areas in the Realm reserved for such stuff, being the brush pile along the region known far and wide as the Woods Without End (not to be confused with that most jolly of television spectacles, known far and wide only by its initials, WWE, involving overly muscled men in garish outfits dancing inside a roped platform. I chuckle near to wetting myself as if I were but a babe when I consider the level of humor brought forth by those merry men) or within the vessel constructed for much merry-making, sometimes kn0wn by that most sinister name, “The Pit of Fire,” which I consider to be such a misnomer for a place in the Realm where many cigars and many barrels of the Realm's finest elixir have been enjoyed and, in fact, I recall one specific occasion when I reposed there... oh, pardon me, Your Highness... I must have succumbed to a further moment of mere fanciful reflection. Please accept my most humble apologies, Your Highness. Now, where was I? Oh, yes – I recall it now.
Brown Stuff that Produces an Odor reminiscent of the worst scent exuding from poorly stored Offal, which is ofttimes known by the shorter (and much cuter) name “Brown Stuff – POO” (for which I must soon remember to write to Mike Rowe in appreciation for bringing this term to the attention of the Royal Groundskeeper): This stuff be that which shall, once it is discovered, be scooped with the tool known by its Royally Appointed Name of “Shovel” and placed in containers such as that which have been retained for this purpose. These containers have been given the Royally Appointed Name of “Bag.” One must never forget that the source of the odor of this stuff is the fact that it has traveled throughout a Hound's digestive tract, just so it can land on the Lawn. Poo, indeed.
Rocks, otherwise known as Stones, Gravel or Crunchy Snacks, but in that case only by the Royal Hunting Hound known as Left of Y (I wish he could talk so that I could ask him the most assuredly noble source of such a curious name): This stuff be that which must be gathered and then placed within the vessel constructed for much merry-making, sometimes known by that most sinister name, The Pit of Fire, which I consider to be such a misnomer for a place in the Realm where many cigars and many barrels of the Realm's elixir have been... oh, pardon me, Your Highness... I must have succumbed to a yet another brief moment of fanciful reflection. Please accept my most humble apologies, Your Highness. Now, where was I? Oh, yes – I recall it now.
Other Stuff: This stuff be that which does not appear to be any stuff which can be identified by any previous term defined herein. This stuff further be that stuff which shall be collected and placed in containers such as that which have been retained for this purpose. These containers have been given the Royally Appointed Name of “Bag.”
Yet Other Stuff: This stuff be ever so very mysterious that we know not its name, its function, its purpose, its source, its heritage, its nationality, its religious practices, its family history, its preferred mode of transportation, yeah verily, there is little much about this stuff can be known by anyone, for it is very unlike any stuff which has previously been seen. For this very reason, this stuff must be collected and brought for study to Her Exalted Highness the Queen, She Who Must Be Obeyed, Chef Extraordinaire, Lover of All Things Furred Except The Furniture, Devotee of the Gaming Tables in the Far-Off, Though Friendly Kingdom of The Vegas, etc., etc., or to me, your most humble servant, the Royal Groundskeeper, for identification and the deciding of to which yonder destination it must be consigned. Or if we keep it to ourselves.
We find ourselves greatly rejoicing at this moment because we have at last completed the terribly arduous, difficult and hard task of defining all those such terms as are required by you during future Grand Tours of the Realm's Outermost Boundaries. We must, upon the most careful and detailed times of reflection, continue to a further topic, that of the very Outermost Boundaries of the Realm itself, though we, too, shy away from visiting those, as with many of our kindred folk throughout this Realm. For many ages, there were many of the Realm too fearful to even approach the Boundaries, lest they be carried away in unknown, fanciful carriages from the Boundaries to the East and some to to the South, be set upon by that largely unknown folk, the Kin of the Hawk who reside off the Boundaries to the North, or yet most feared, be lost in the Woods Without End which attach themselves to the Boundaries to the West. There also must be considered those Lands of the villainous creature known far and wide as the Lawn Scalper whose beast belches smoke and fire and furthermore, whose beast runs as though propelled by a score of the fastest horses and still then whose deck is set so low as to attempt to shorten the earth itself.
I have completed a survey of the entire Outermost Boundaries of Realm and have come to the conclusion that, in spite of your having been prepared to face the Woods Without End by the extensive training I have provided, you have allowed the Woods Without End to encroach by the introduction of its own Green Stuff and this ever further into the Realm ruled by Her Exalted Highness the Queen, She Who Must Be Obeyed, Chef Extraordinaire, Lover of All Things Furred Except The Furniture, Devotee of the Gaming Tables in the Far-Off, Though Friendly Kingdom of The Vegas, etc., etc.
Indeed, this very day, I have ventured forth with the trusty Toro to do battle with the many scores of mounted soldiers left to guard the Woods Without End. I perceive I may have just managed to chase those guardians back to their own territory, which we would not deign to invade without the authority of Her Exalted Highness the Queen, She Who Must Be Obeyed, Chef Extraordinaire, Lover of All Things Furred Except The Furniture, Devotee of the Gaming Tables in the Far-Off, Though Friendly Kingdom of The Vegas, etc., etc. And even then we would have to sit and think about it for a while.
After my having returned from the Woods Without End and indeed from each of the Outermost Boundaries of the Realm and thus the Lawn to its rightful condition and its borders to their rightful location, I pray that I must rely further on Your Highness' patience, attention and good graces (not to mention mood) for just a few moments longer.
If it pleases Your Highness, this ever so brief message must be read, re-read, read again and re-read again, and therefore so digested so that all its contents become as though a second nature to Your Highness, for you are now asked to recall and review the very reason for which you have been and were originally trained in the art of Lawn Maintenance and released with the beast Toro upon the Realm.
Remember, Your Highness, this is so that you may have many of the gold coins of the Realm with which to make less empty your Pod of I, to slake your thirst and ease your hunger at the Vers of Cul (or any other such fine or not so fine dining establishment) when you so desire, to clothe yourself in the raiment of your own choosing, to acquire those many images of the merry minstrels known throughout the Realms and Kingdoms of all the known world as the Brothers With The Perfect Dark Hair, Silky Voices And Clanging Instruments of Cacophony, so as to adorn the walls of your private space in the castle (though the thought of so many duplications of those visages upon your walls troubles me to this day and makes me wake up from my slumber sucking my thumb), to keep some gold coins as if for a rainy day far in the future (though you must understand that the nature of such a day of rain means that such is a term that must be considered as one would the moral of a good fable. That is to say, it is but a picture of words to indicate something else – something farther off and less concrete than the words themselves may seem to define), and most importantly, to bestow a portion of your gold coins upon your desired house of worship so that the good works being done there by those worthy monks, abbots, priests, bishops, nuns, clerics, sages and even those minstrels such as the bassist Michael of the S and his young protege the Christian of the S (though he be but a boy and therefore, unworthy of your attention), among many others, may continue as they have for lo these many countless ages.
I know that you must be very weary by this time, for even now I can feel your weariness even to the soles of my shoes and the floor beneath as I craft this ever most brief of messages. I leave you with the following instructions for your careful consideration and execution:
When you are guiding the beast Toro, you must always heed the newly re-established Outermost Boundaries of the Realm, for it is thereby that the completeness of your tasks shall be known. For if you do not, you may be asked to attend once more to another Grand Tour of the Realm's Outermost Boundaries, this more soon than you had hoped.
Always collect the Brown Stuff, for it delights the senses when ignited in the vessel constructed for much merry-making, sometimes kn0wn by that most sinister name, The Pit of Fire, which I consider to be such a misnomer for a place in the Realm where many cigars... oh, pardon me, Your Highness... I must have succumbed to a yet another most brief instant of fanciful reflection. Please accept my most humble apologies, Your Highness. Now, where was I? Oh, yes – I recall it now.
Always scoop the Brown Stuff – POO wherever and whenever you may discover it, for it is thus the expectation of of your humble Royal Groundskeeper, and my thus being subordinate to the Royal Gardener, who, we are pleased to remember, is one of the Titles of the Realm held in highest honor by Her Exalted Highness the Queen, She Who Must Be Obeyed, Chef Extraordinaire, Lover of All Things Furred Except The Furniture, Devotee of the Gaming Tables in the Far-Off, Though Friendly Kingdom of The Vegas, etc., etc. that the areas of the Realm now and ever to be known as Lawn must forever be clear of their kind, sort and ilk. Your Highness should be aware that your keen ability to identify such stuff is well known throughout the Realm as being far greater than you wish it to be known.
Always gather the Rocks and place them in the Pit of Fire (you thought that I was going to start in again with that whole, unnecessarily rambling “Pit of Fire” thing again, didn't you?), for it is by these that the aforementioned pit shall have the drainage desired by its designer, your humble Royal Groundskeeper.
Always collect the Other Stuff, for it has been decreed that none of this stuff shall be visible in all the Realm, save that one day per week when the Realm's Garbage Collection Service makes its call to the castle.
Never forget to bring to the Royal Groundskeeper all the Yet Other Stuff as the Royal Groundskeeper delights in identifying the mysterious for in them we may one day find precious jewels or other treasures.
I know it will delight Your Highness to learn you will receive further training this year in the art of Lawn Maintenance, as my confidence in your abilities outstrips the brief words contained in this message. This further training will involve the use of the electronically controlled device known far and wide as the String Trimmer. There will be much rejoicing.
I know further that Your Highness will be ecstatic to learn that beginning with this year's harvest season, you will also take on further responsibilities such as accompanying the Royal Groundskeeper in taking the beast Toro for his (it's) annual checkup. There will be even more rejoicing.
Please do not hesitate to approach the Royal Groundskeeper if anything in this, your humble servant's briefest of messages with so few words, is unclear or requires translation.
