Mowing the Lawn

Today was definitely the official inauguration for the lawn mowing season. And what a bad ordeal it was.

I thought it was going to be a breeze, maybe a 45-minute job, front and back, barely break a sweat. I was doubtful that the grass even needed mowing today, that it was just a little bushy in parts. But it was an overcast morning, and it seemed a good opportunity to break in the new mower. I was also a little concerned that Father was getting anxious about when I was going to get on track with the yard work this year. As I recall, we usually begin the season in earnest in March - the climate and nature no longer playing the same tune as of old.

Since it was suppose to be a quick, no-sweat job, I was game for pulling out the worst weeds. On some, since I was unable to pull out the root-system, and since what was left was so thick, more like a bush than weeds, I even broke out the shovel and dug out a few of those thick-rooted monsters. I was afraid of wrecking the new mower on them, seeing how that is the way we lost the last mower, when I just tried to force mow one of those tall, thick-rooted clumps, and ending up taking out the lawn mower instead.

In addition to the time and energy - and sweat! - spent on the weeds, I soon realized that I had underestimated how much grass there was. It turned out to be a five-bag job. Instead of 45 minutes, I was working out there for close to three hours. Since this cut across my lunch time, I took a break to heat up some sausage and a tortilla, having exhausted my inner resources, as I started wobbling and got a little shaky, wondering how I did this to myself.

I did get one break: the sun did not come out and join in my beating until after I was done, which allowed me to knock out the back yard, too, as I intended but was starting to doubt. So, at least it is all out of the way now, and I can simply recover from the trauma, and maybe suffer only modest post-traumatic stress syndrome. And, maybe, like last year, mowing won't be a weekly thing, in spite of the heavy rains we have been getting, as it just feels parched and deathly out there.

Mowing the Lawn

Today was definitely the official inauguration for the lawn mowing season. And what a bad ordeal it was.

I thought it was going to be a breeze, maybe a 45-minute job, front and back, barely break a sweat. I was doubtful that the grass even needed mowing today, that it was just a little bushy in parts. But it was an overcast morning, and it seemed a good opportunity to break in the new mower. I was also a little concerned that Father was getting anxious about when I was going to get on track with the yard work this year. As I recall, we usually begin the season in earnest in March - the climate and nature no longer playing the same tune as of old.

Since it was suppose to be a quick, no-sweat job, I was game for pulling out the worst weeds. On some, since I was unable to pull out the root-system, and since what was left was so thick, more like a bush than weeds, I even broke out the shovel and dug out a few of those thick-rooted monsters. I was afraid of wrecking the new mower on them, seeing how that is the way we lost the last mower, when I just tried to force mow one of those tall, thick-rooted clumps, and ending up taking out the lawn mower instead.

In addition to the time and energy - and sweat! - spent on the weeds, I soon realized that I had underestimated how much grass there was. It turned out to be a five-bag job. Instead of 45 minutes, I was working out there for close to three hours. Since this cut across my lunch time, I took a break to heat up some sausage and a tortilla, having exhausted my inner resources, as I started wobbling and got a little shaky, wondering how I did this to myself.

I did get one break: the sun did not come out and join in my beating until after I was done, which allowed me to knock out the back yard, too, as I intended but was starting to doubt. So, at least it is all out of the way now, and I can simply recover from the trauma, and maybe suffer only modest post-traumatic stress syndrome. And, maybe, like last year, mowing won't be a weekly thing, in spite of the heavy rains we have been getting, as it just feels parched and deathly out there.