Still. Life?

Barley, a dog, stands beside an austere black metal fence, beyond which is a laws whose color and uniformity both seem completely unnatural.

I generally try not to put a person’s home on blast in these commentaries, but sometimes a come across a yard whose aesthetic seems to alien to my own sensibilities, and so effortful to maintain, that it leaves my mind a little boggled. I’m pretty sure this yard has living grass, but I haven’t reached through the fence to feel around and find out. Every other aspect of this yard is maintained within such intense tolerances that I feel checking if the lawn is astroturf would be seen as an invasion of the perimeter by the homeowner. It’s possible I’ve been fooled and the grass is really high quality astroturf, but given that the homeowner clearly removes any leaves or debris larger than my thumb on a daily basis, I would not put it past them to tend to this patch with the attention of a PGA-rated golf course botanist.