I gave my dad the nickname “Yardman.” I wrote a whole book about it. It’s his birthday today, and in his honor I will share a few excerpts from the book below. The pics are from an early days digital camera and feature one of my childhood homes in Shelby Township, Michigan. No lawn care specialists were consulted in the creation or maintenance of this landscape. This is all Kent.
There was a time when a man could determine the grade of a slope with a
single glance. A time when a man could be counted on to properly
position a sprinkler. Indeed, there was a time when a man could spread
enough mulch around the perimeter of his home to build an eight foot bunker.
Despite the disfavor for these crafts amongst the common homeowner, there
exists a man who continues to bestow his mastery over the land. That man is
Yardman. He knows his mission. He understands that lawn etiquette is not a
task to be taken lightly. A palette of trustworthy earth tones needs to be
established. Rhythms of line and texture must be adhered to in rooflines and
gutter placement. A thorough understanding of botany is essential, as is an
ability to communicate with woodpeckers and deer. And while it seems certain
members of the male species cannot be trusted with a pair of hedge clippers,
the Yardman can always be relied on for the skillful upkeep of his land.
In the pages that follow, we celebrate the exhaustive craftsmanship
of one such Yardman: Kent Stewart Maconochie.
Behold Yardman’s home from the road. Lawn mower cutting patterns, roof
pitch, tree placement—if there are any flaws, they are instantly revealed from
afar. Make no mistake, this vantage point is of utmost importance to the
Yardman. Morning joggers, leisurely strollers, and those passing by from the
comfort of their vehicles all observe the Yardman’s kingdom from this
perspective. Thus the Yardman spends countless hours to ensure all
elements act as a cohesive unit, for Yardman is king of his neighborhood.
There is never any question as to the location of the Yardman’s home. His
address is displayed clearly, chiseled for posterity into solid concrete. At
night, strategically placed halogen lamps project a steady beam of light
across the plaque. At the Yardman’s lair, the pizza guy rarely has a suitable
excuse for not delivering his bounty promptly.
Upon approach, one is nearly overpowered by the entrance of the Yardman’s
dwelling. Expertly-groomed shrubbery flocks both sides, aromatic rose bushes
abound—resistance is futile.
The Yardman is many things. Among them, a highly-skilled botanist.
Tasteful brick-selection, well-crafted arch-work, finely-tucked ivy—though
they may go unnoticed to the casual observer, these details are at the
forefront of the Yardman’s mind.
Legend says the Yardman cuts brick with his bare fists. Are you going to
question the Yardman?
Semicircle shrubbery— a Yardman trademark.
Yardman is all too familiar with this scene. Once an onlooker has advanced as
far as the front porch, they have surely succumbed to the grandeur of the
entrance to his lair. With the prey firmly in his grasp, the Yardman knows
the game is up.
The Yardman’s back yard is an equally impressive sight to behold. Here the
Yardman can find respite. This sacred area is his private territory, free of
distractions brought forth from passing cars or curious onlookers.
Observe how the Yardman has successfully merged lawn and dense forest. Though one with nature, the Yardman ultimately surrenders to the wild.
Various levels of manicured foliage are no accident. Always conscious of the
visiting neighbor’s perspective, the Yardman has gone to great lengths to
ensure that each vista offers the maximum amount of visual satisfaction.
Symmetry. Proportion. Harmony. Concepts learned by some, but instinctive to
the Yardman. He knows that repeating an arched window motif in the design of
his patio ornaments will offer the casual observer a sense of pleasure, though
they may not be exactly sure why.
The Yardman’s house always looks more impressive from the vantage point a
well-manicured lawn. From this position he can also enjoy more fully the
permeating aroma of fresh-strewn fertilizer.
Though the Yardman reigns supreme over his own territory, he is quick to
acknowledge neighboring Lawnmen. In a gesture of respect, the Yardman
positioned this arched vestibule so that it would take advantage of the
wondrous view of the neighbor’s backyard.
Spiders and other creatures of the yard are of little consequence to the
Yardman, who happily cohabitates with all of nature.
The quintessential Yardman patio. Plentiful seating, ample shade during peak
sunshine, and a fully stocked fridge just footsteps away.
Behold the Yardman’s alter. A place for peaceful contemplation where one can
admire the encroaching Hemlocks and worship the Lawn Gods.
Yardman should be proud of his home. He can rest assured that Yardson will
happily carry on the Yardman tradition when he owns a home of his own.
On the last point, all I can say is, I don’t own a lawn mower and the grass at my house is—shall we say, au naturel— but I try!
Yardman is so missed and you captured his pain staking work perfectly.
Yardman’s influence is beyond measurable and my shrubs will always be thankful. Miss you Yardman…happy birthday!