It’s mowing time of year again. This is not my favorite activity, but it does allow for plenty of time to ruminate which IS my favorite activity. Whether I inherited this Walter Middy interior life from my father or it’s the result of being an only child, I can’t say. The mowing of the yard at our house at the sea falls mostly to me. This time of year I make the 150 miles drive every two weeks to mow and also to shop for my mother.
This time I thought I’d mix it up a bit and start with the section I usually leave until last. I don’t think it matters what pattern you mow in. Even as the amount you have left to mow shrinks it appears bigger and bigger. I have an electric lawn mower so it isn’t heavy to push, but its small wheelbase means more trips across the yard. I try to think of it as not only being good for the environment, but good for my blood pressure. Getting rid of the grass entirely would be even better for the environment, but someone likes play with the grandchildren on the lawn.
One thing I’ve discovered about mowing the lawn is that it’s like a virus you give to your neighbors. It used to be that when I started mowing the neighbor would get out his lawn mower and mow, too. It never failed. He’s not in good health and now he sends his son-in-law out every time I mow. The man across the street frequently gets out about ½ through my job.
One strip of grass gets mowed twice because there’s a disagreement as to whose strip it is. When we bought the place there was a stake out at what we assumed was the property line between our yard and that of the elderly lady who lived next door. The stake stayed there for about 10 years until Viola died and her nephews, who take better care of the lawn now that she’s dead than they ever did when she was alive, pulled it out. Just one of the strange things they’ve done. So there is this strip that we mow and they mow, too. One of these days we should get the property lines surveyed. It’s not like we want to put up a fence between us or anything since the nephews are seldom there, but someday the grandchildren we intend to leave the place to might like to know what they are supposed to mow. Actually, I’ll be happy when they are big enough to mow for me! They will stop wanting to come with me.
I have to admit that the yard looks nice when it's done. Well, my mowing for this trip is done and it’s time to hit the shower. Thank goodness I put a chicken along with beets from the farmer’s market in the crockpot. Dinner’s half made. I wonder how far I walk when I go back and forth, back and forth on our lawn. Maybe I should get a pedometer and find out. Maybe I don’t want to know.