And on the seventh day, he rested.
Before long, the yard was overgrown, and none of the plants were familiar to him. After all, she was the one who knew about plants, and it should have been no surprise that the strange twisted fruits that had rooted in the soil were actually weeds. She would have known, but they had broken up and she was gone.
He could have gotten up, of course, and mowed that lawn, trimmed those plants back. He was no stranger to pruning, and he was a righteous fury with pinking shears. He could just turn the hose on, like he had done before, and wash it all away while he sat and watched football on cable.
But, he didn't do it. He left it there, overgrown and home to all manner of things.
The neighbors began to wonder: was he being irresponsible or did the yard just not matter to him anymore?