The Ricker likes to garden.

The Ricker's house is on the top of a hill on the edge of the mountains, on about an acre lot. The house is surrounded on all sides by pine trees, sumacs (which, as Ryan says, are weeds anyway), flowers and grass, intermixed with old railroad ties and terracotta pots. While the Ricker has had some success with his flowers and trees, he has never been able to grow a decent lawn. He's tried everything--overseeding, re-sodding; well, I guess that's all he's tried. He spends hours watering the lawn, and he even shovels the lawn to fertilize in the middle of winter. Yet, despite all his hard work, his lawn has always been a little less than satisfactory to him. Maybe this is why, as a kid (and really to this day), NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO WALK ON THE LAWN.

There are stepping stones everywhere on the lawn. The Ricker even trained the dog to walk around the lawn, crossing at just one point. I still can't walk on grass without thinking I'm doing something wrong. Just once, I would have liked to play catch or football on the lawn with the Ricker. Nope, never happened--we used the driveway, which is far less inspiring.