Open Mowing
It appears that our neighbor's son-in-law, who lives down the road, just got a new Kubota tractor/riding lawn mower. I must say that I am envious. I sure wish I had a son-in-law or two.
[WAIT! That was supposed to be a joke...a transpositional circumstance leading to a humorous observation. I don't want any sons-in-law, yet - really I don't.]
Like any red blooded yard tending Merican male I suffer from a huge slight case of ... yeah, you got it ... tractor envy. Most of my longing stems from the fact that my old-n-busted riding mower is still stone cold from last winter. Dead on it slowly deflating tires. So let me tell you a story . . .
Long ago in a corner of the county, far, far away . . .
We bought the Flying Pig Ranch 10+ years ago. When we took possession we were the proud owners of a 1.5 acre clean shaven hillside with the house toward the top. Stretching our before us was reclaimed pasture with all the character of a municipal golf course. You know the ones where you cannot tell one fairway from the next, just a big empty expanse.
For the first couple of years I mowed the entire thing with the exception of the "tall grass". This was a designated section specifically allowed to overgrow as an anti-erosion measure. Once a week I fired up the then new riding mower and burned an afternoon maintaining the barren open field of ... well this didn't even warrant a daydream.
After about the third season of this dutiful ritual I became weary of dealing with the diagonal scar in my expansive fairway that was left when the main run to the leach field had not been adequately back filled. Before I started mowing on that particular Saturday I took the hand mower and outlined a the figure of a snake that twisted around the length of the scar. My "grass snake" would cover the scar and I would have an interesting object-duh-artee in my front yard.
I often wonder(ed) if passing pilots could distinguish my 240 foot long handy work from the air. I am relatively sure the neighbors thought/knew I was a brick shy of a load, a bottle short of a six-pack, crazy or just a burned out hippy. Regardless, the then small children loved the prospect of something, anything in their empty field front yard. They found great joy in running down one side of the grass snake and up the other.
To make an already long story even longer gas prices rose, children grew up, small trees (small greens spots) got planted and old men get lazy(ier). I stopped mowing larger (dark green) sections of the yard. I told myself that just having these pathways were even more engaging than just the yard art.
All of that brings me back to tractor envy. Certainly in the earliest days of scalping the entire "lawn" the riding mower was essential. But today with gas prices as they are and the economy as it is I just couldn't bring myself to invest (yet) in bringing the riding mower back online.
So I took a long hard look at the push mower. "Nah, I got to be nuts to consider pushing that thing all over, up and down the hill. For what?!?!" So that first nice weekend I ignored the mower in favor of my other outdoor activity - jogging. The year before I had set a goal for myself. By the end of that summer I would be able to jog/run 1 mile. You can only imagine how pleased I was to end that season being able to do 3 miles continuously. This year that first 5K might just be within my sights.
The second nice weekend prompted me to revisit the lawn mowing issue again. "OK, ok, I will at least get the push mower running and see what my choices are. Sheeeeesh, gimme a break!" So I fired it up. I started down hill along the long fence line by the drive. "Hey, this isn't so bad." By the time I made it back up the edge of the drive I was huffing and puffing as though I had just done a mile at full speed.
Now any sane man would have made a bee line for the John Deere dealer and spent his economic incentive check on a new shiney 'nothing runs like a Deere' mower and been sensible. Evidently I am a quart low on sensibility and I have already established my level of sanity. As I was straining my hands, wrists, arms, shoulders, back, thighs, knees, ankles and feet I had heatstroke ... heartattack ... an epiphony!
Pushing the hand mower up and down the hill for 2 hours was giving me a priceless, comprehensive full body work out. Plus my lawn was getting mowed. Plus I wasn't spending money on gas to haul my overweight carcass around while doing it. In fact my carcass wasn't so overweight for the benefit of pushing the mower.
So sure I will have bouts of tractor envy. I will, upon occasion, covet my neighbor's Kubota. But I will take pride in a well mowed lawn knowing that I am a better man for it. As for the sons-in-law the girls will have to work out the specifics. There is very little a father has to say about such things these days anyway.
Go forth and mow...and multiply.
- Papa
I am William "Papa" Meloney and I endorse this message.
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