We are the King of all we survey.
We decree the King’s lawn will green up immediately and without regard for the weather. The grass will be beautiful and healthy, and will slow-roll any growth. In fact, it will grow slowly all summer so the King will not have to mow more than once per week, even in July after three straight weeks of rain. The King needs to get steps in and likes the meditative monotony of walking back and forth. But we do not want to get carried away by the pressure of growth.
The King is not hardened to the lawn’s needs and wants the lawn to thrive. The King will rake the lawn for exercise and because we wonder if a rake is to a lawn as a rump scratch is to a dog. If the lawn had a tail, would it wag it? We think so.
So, we will rake with a kingly rake, and we will shovel up the incredible sand deposit this winter’s road-safety effort left behind. If the long winter carved ruts into any neighbor’s driveway, they should simply petition the King, and we will use our collection of road sand to fill holes.
The King decrees that the “royal we” is not annoying and we will use it. Others in the kingdom will have to scrape along with regular pronouns and will not make fun of our use of “we” or the new royal wave we are adopting (no enthusiasm, just a cupped hand that tilts slightly). Any laughter will earn the King’s deadly stare, and you will understand that we are not amused.
The King orders the bluebirds who have been scouting the yard to make a homestead here. The sparrows will give up their claims on available bird housing until the bluebirds pick their spot. No birds will bother the bluebirds as they build their nests, and their eggs and offspring are declared sacred.
Turkeys are allowed in the kingdom to perform the welcome work of eating ticks, but dirt baths in the royal gardens are forbidden. Hummingbirds will hover longer, make eye contact, and wink at the King. It’s OK if nobody else sees the wink because this gesture is only for the King’s pleasure.
As King, we decree that squirrels will stay out of bird feeders. Squirrels are not birds and they’ve gotten so fat off stolen bird seed that we mistook one for a bunny. If they keep going like this, they’ll all become so round even real rabbits will be confused. Their voracious seed-eating is straining the royal coffers, and the palace staff can’t keep the bird feeders full. We wouldn’t be surprised if they sprouted sunflowers out of their ears.
Flower-crowned rodents will detract from our kingly presence and create a whole new tourist attraction Harpswell doesn’t need. The flow of folks looking for reversing falls is annoying enough.
So, squirrels will not eat like birds and will not impersonate bunnies anywhere on the King’s lawn.
The kingdom’s vegetable harvest will be orderly and spread over time. We will not endure the rush to eat or cook tomatoes because every fruit on every vine ripened at the same time. We will not have grape tomatoes for breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks every single day until we can’t countenance eating a tomato. This year, grape tomatoes will ripen daily in salad-size portions, and the vines will know when we need a bigger haul for company or to fulfill an urgent caprese craving.
Insects will choose a single potato and share it. One bite out of each potato displeases the King and will no longer be tolerated. Zucchini, our vegetable nemesis, will grow to the perfect size for grating and no larger. The crop will be bountiful and the King’s zucchini muffins will have perfect, domed tops, and will be the talk of the kingdom.
This year, the poppies will muscle up to flower in their crowded space. Poppies know the King sees their flower as a sign of hope, and they will not disappoint us. The King’s leaning birch tree will buck up and stand straight. It will be a marvel, outliving any kingdom’s most tenacious tree. Everything in the kingdom has work to do, and falling down on the job is not acceptable.
What is the price for disobeying the King? Of course, no one in the kingdom wants to find out. The King’s side-eye is devastating, and the King’s foot stomp sends tremors throughout the land.
As I look out on the King’s rolling fields, I see a fat, bunny-esque squirrel seated, as if on a throne, on top of a post adorned with two bird feeders. He had to navigate a gauntlet to get there and he looks very pleased, as if he’s the King of all he surveys.
I think he just winked at me. I am, indeed, amused.
