When I lived in Calgary about 15 years ago there was this big, sloping field behind my backyard fence leading down to a busy road. The grass was long and yellow there, and I felt it needed some beauty added to it. So I got out my lawnmower and cut a big CH in this slope and thousands of cars a day saw it as they drove by.
Then, one day, there was a knock on my door. It was a man with a frown on his face, from the City of Calgary, and he told me to stop this nonsense, let the grass grow back, and never do it again or I’d be fined.
(And by the way, among those houses up on that big hill behind me is where Doug Risebrough was living at the time. I know because I was his milkman.)