Mow that Lawn

Summer has arrived and along with it comes the melodic sound of lawnmowers, those wonderful devices that transform our messy lawns into lovely smooth expanses of green grass. There’s just one problem. In order to make that happen, someone has to actually push the infernal thing, and if you’ve found a way to do that without becoming dirty, sweaty, and tired, I’ve got to hand it to you. I sure haven’t.

I’ve mowed many a lawn over the years. The first was at the tender age of 10. I got caught by my dad as I attempted to escape Saturday chores by slipping out of the house right after lunch. He had just gotten home and snagged me before I had a chance to get away. He informed me that my job for the afternoon would be to mow the lawn. He then pulled the lawnmower out of the shed and began gassing it up. When he was done, he gestured to it and said he thought I could handle it. The lawnmower, for its part, sat there looking like it far preferred to stay in that dirty, spider infested shed, but it had no choice. Dad gave me a few instructions, fired it up, and off I went.

I mowed and mowed and mowed and mowed. Our lawn was not huge, but it wasn’t small either, and in my 10-year-old mind, it seemed like that job took at least seven or eight hours. I know it wasn’t that long, but by the time I had finished the backyard, the side yard, the front yard, and the other side yard; I was beat. When I was finally done, I parked that lawnmower in front of the shed and fled for my life.

I have continued to mow lawns throughout my adulthood, although I did get a break for about a dozen years when my boys took over the job. When they left, the job once again fell on me, and I went back to cutting the grass myself until I ran into a big problem a few years ago. I had planted Saint Augustine grass, and when it came in, it looked great, but was so thick that I quickly found out I didn’t have the strength to push the lawnmower through it. The last time I tried, I struggled horribly. As I threw my weight into it with my head down and my body stretched out practically horizontal, I must’ve looked utterly ridiculous. I can only assume that my neighbors were in complete hysterics.

That was the last time I mowed a lawn. I have brought on help for that job, and it’s worth every penny. Now I watch from my window as someone else pushes that mower back-and-forth across my yard until a neatly trimmed lawn emerges with no effort on my part. Trust me. It’s a lot better that way.