On both sides the lawn mowers hummed. Dust clouds where luscious grass once shone emerald. The heavy scent filled the air, cut grass. A pleasant smell but a reminder of a lost habitat. She stood in her own world. In the middle of it all. Her own sanctuary of wild uncut lawn. Bees hummed and drifted in and out of flowers, pollen dusting the petals as they left. Small delicate butterflies danced to unheard music and the birds sang to each other from lofty trees. She kept this place just for them, the wild things. A small refuge surrounded by the ravages of man where dandelions were seen as problematic. They were welcome here. This happy place. This small secluded paradise. This home.