Husbands and hedge trimmers

Rule No. 1. Don't allow your husband in the front yard with a hedge trimmer unsupervised.

The tragedy began when we returned home to find a note on the front door: Meter could not be read.

That would be the water meter, which is hidden by a dense hedge beside the driveway. Although the hedge looks to be mostly on our property, our neighbor has kindly trimmed it once or twice a year, a courtesy he likely began with the previous homeowner.

At the time of the meter reader's visit, the hedge had not experienced a spring trim and long tendrils bounced in the wind, giving the hedge a distinct Medusa-like flair. It never occurred to my husband to trim it, although I'd clipped it here and there, especially where it infringed on the small ice plant and phlox garden nearby.

But, when the meter reader left his damning note, it was time to charge up the battery and get our hedge trimmer roaring.

It was a hot day. Sticky for spring. My husband worked hard. I remained in the house doing laundry from our two-week trip north, prettying up our sun room and vacuuming the house.

I did not supervise the hedge trimming.

My husband came back in the house, tired and sweaty. "I opened it up real good," he said. "Did you trim our neighbor's side," I asked, meaning the long tendrils bouncing in the breeze. He shook his head no--but he'd get back to it tomorrow.

Now it's tomorrow. "I opened it all up," he said, smiling, face glistening with sweat.

Now it's the day after tomorrow. We're going to Costco. I walk outside. I see the hedge. You can drive a Volkswagen through it. My husband has hacked and whacked a four by four foot gap in the hedge--wide enough for a four hundred pound meter reader to dance the quick step.

That I could live with. But, he also "opened up" our neighbor's side, exposing the big, green metal box the hedge has successfully covered for many years--the reason people plant these hedges around big, green metal boxes.

My husband is oblivious to such aesthetics. And since he worked so hard, I don't have the heart to complain. This isn't a complaint. It's a comment.

I haven't yet heard my neighbor's comment, although she did smile at me as she backed her car out of the driveway this morning. That was before I saw the hedge. Now I'm wondering--was that a smile or a wince?