Here in the Badger State, reliable indicators that spring is afoot include melting snow, budding leaves and the annual emergence of lawn ornaments from winter hibernation.
Midwestern lawn art is, quite simply, creepy. Though I am aware that my pronounced fear of classes of things preceded by the word \folk"" does not exactly make me impartial, it's still true. Having grown up in small-town Wisconsin, I feel qualified to make that claim.
I'm not talking benign bits of whimsy like pink flamingos, spinning flowers or bird baths, mind you. I mean the garish, on occasion downright disturbing pieces of Americana, those with the power to leave me laughing, cringing or merely wondering, ""Why?""
Take the ubiquitous gnome. Gnomes, imps, pixies, nymphs, sprites-mythical wee-folk of every persuasion abound in the typical Wisconsin town. What is so appealing about little bearded men perched atop spotted mushrooms smoking their pipes and strumming their zithers? Perhaps I don't want to know.
Statues of the Virgin Mary housed in half-buried bathtubs have always struck me as odd also. I'm not a religious woman myself, but for those who wish to proclaim their faith through lawn art, isn't there a more fitting shrine to an object of worship than an old bathroom fixture that has played host to decades of mortal filth?
One of the most unsettling forms of lawn decor to emerge in recent years, in my opinion, is the dress-up ceramic goose. Unlike most other varieties, this one requires continual financial commitment, not to mention daily maintenance. Personally, if I ever get to the point where consulting the calendar and weather in order to garb my goose appropriately becomes an unquestioned part of my daily routine, it's over for me.
Goose owners, however, pale to those who transform their front lawns into sprawling fairy-lands complete with programmed mood lighting, running water and motion-activated animatronic cricket-bands which chirp falsetto renditions of seasonal classics like ""Tiptoe Through the Tulips."" This is no doubt the epitome of involvement in the lawn art realm, the point where time and money are no doubt being diverted from work, sleep or the raising of children.
Some lawn ornaments also serve to advertise potentially inflammatory political views under the friendly guise of lawn art. Where I come from, hardline conservatives proudly display fishing boys and lawn jockeys that have been painted Caucasian and given American flags to hold. And I want to know why, in this age of openness and acceptance, even in Madison, I have yet to see two Dutch people of the same gender smooching next to a windmill.
So, what is the enduring appeal of lawn art? What compels an otherwise rational being to look at the exterior of their home and conclude that wooden effigies of cartoon characters, silhouetted cowboys or rotund geriatrics bending over is just the thing to complete the ambience? Why do people persist in placing bed frames full of flowers on their front lawns and claiming credit for the idea of the ""flower bed?"" And what, pray tell, is the deal with year-round snowmen?
Mankind may never know.
flamingpurvis@yahoo.com.
