growing up, we had a ranch style house with a long rectangular yard. I thought that yard was the length of a football field, to me it stretched on forever. I returned as an adult to find that our house had been demolished and that the yard was no more than 30 feet long. So much for memories.
There was a portion at the very base of the yard that had tough yellow grass and sprigs of onion grass. I never went on this portion. It was either made of lava, or it was my rational fear of stepping in dog crap that kept me away.
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