Mowing the Lawn

Any kid who grew up in Texas whose daddy wasn't rich enough with big oil money to hire a service (see Texas stereotypes and myths) knows how to properly mow a lawn.

When I was a kid I hated yard work. I thought I'd hit the jackpot when I found out I was allergic to most everything in the yard. That was my ticket out, right? Wrong. I soon learned that not only was my dad also allergic, but that because he had a D-r-period in front of his name he could supply me with all the drugs I needed to control the allergies. If he was going to tough it out, I was going to tough it out.

Mowing was not really a problem, but I never could control our old edger. That, couple with the fact that dad liked to do yard work at the absolute worst times of the day like before noon on any day during the summer or anytime on Saturday, made me loath the whole thing.

Somewhere along the way however, everything changed. I found the secret to joyful lawn care. Mowing allows for two happy things:

1) You can't hear the phone and nobody can talk to you as long as that mower engine is revving. It's the best time to think and pray. Seclusion in the midst of craziness.

2) The wonderful feeling of accomplishment. I get a little taste of what my forefathers must have felt as they worked the land in days gone by. I love looking back at what has been mowed, seeing where I've been and knowing I've made things look better. Immediate gratification!

It also helps that my edger is much easier to use than dad's old one.