YOU WOULD have to be living beneath a rock to not know that we Angelenos are deep in the throes of a drought. Even my friends, thousands of miles away, ask about what that might mean, are versed in the details. So, with a sense of great surprise, I’ve been noting how many residents are still showering their beloved front lawns with affection — read: lots of water — despite fines and the threat of other penalties.
It’s hardly something that one can hide.
Now, months into no rain and state-imposed water restrictions, the dramatic side-by-side differences are everywhere. That checkerboard of front yards made me realize just how much our symbolic first impression might still mean to us.
My short meditation on lawns and how they figure into the Southern California imagination is up here at Zócalo Public Square.
native to the place 
“Surely, if my neighbors are going without, they won’t mind if I keeping watering?” Inequality starts at home, in my own front yard. Maybe Mr. Trump will help them build a wall around their prescious oasis to protect them from envious eyes? But who will cut the grass and pull the weeds?
Indeed!