The art of lawn obsession explained

On the daily pre-sunrise (thanks summer solstice!) dog walk today, I observed that this seems to be a big year for crabgrass, with the exception of those few homes where the homeowner has meticulously poisoned the ground to create a well manicured putting green for a front lawn.

The actuarial tables can be your friend when deciding how much work you want to put into creating the perfect lawn. When you’re young — and, perhaps, stupid — you have all the time in the world to believe that your lawn is a statement about you. As time is running out, you begin to realize that dandelions and crabgrass were here before you, and they’re going to be there long after you become tomorrow’s mulch.

And then there’s Oktay Mustafayev, of New Jersey, who is profiled without irony this week by the Wall Street Journal.

He mows the lawn twice each time, then yanks out — by hand — blades that aren’t at the same height as the others.

The Journal found several lawn-obsessed people — all of them men — more than happy to share their pride and tips.

Dominick Segro, a police officer who lives in Springfield, N.J., for example mows two or three times week.

His kids are allowed to play in the yard but they have to move around so they don’t hurt the grass. No blow-up pools, either. You can’t have a nice lawn and fun.

Eric Cozart of Coldwater, Mich., has the same deal. No kids allowed on the front lawn, leaving the question: What’s the point here, fellas?