Whoever it was that came up with the idea of the quarter-acre block knew what he was talking about. I mean, a quarter of an acre is just large enough to keep the neighbours at arm's length, and small enough not to run out of breath mowing it.
So what made me buy these seven acres at "Riverbend" which have led me to spend so much money but, more importantly, so much energy on maintaining it. I had already bought a 750-square metre suburban block across the river on which I was planning to build a house more than adequate for my modest needs, when "Riverbend" came up for sale.
Yes, I made them an offer which was at the limit of what I could afford, without ever expecting they would accept it. When, to my greatest surprise, they accepted, I was honour-bound to proceed. And yet, I had one last chance of a reprieve when the agent, who had been equally surprised at my having snatched such a bargain, offered to take the property off my hands by paying me ten percent more than I had paid for it three months earlier. I guess I should've accepted his offer.
More than thirty years later, I could've driven my ride-on mower right around Australia for all the miles I clocked up on it, just sitting there, mowing grass and mowing grass and mowing grass ... How much land does a man need? Which is what a neighbour up the road asked during one of those "meeting of the minds" moments that made me look up and ask, "You, too?" His question prompted me to read Leo Tolstoy's short story again, which ends with these memorable lines: "His servant picked up the spade and dug a grave long enough for Pahom to lie in, and buried him in it. Six feet from his head to his heels was all he needed."
