Posted tagged ‘mowing’

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“Our pets are our family.”

May 11, 2017

Yesterday in the early morning, Gracie and I went to get the papers in the front of the house. I saw a feather on the road and picked it up. It was huge and I knew it belonged to a wild turkey. All of a sudden the gobbling started. The turkeys were on the next street. I could see them from the deck. They were strutting as they walked up the street.

Gracie woke me up at 3. I could hear her panting, a sign she needs to go out. I put on my sweatshirt and my slippers and out we went to the backyard. It was even too early for the birds. Luckily Gracie was quick, and I was back to bed in no time only to awakened again at 6. I put on my sweatshirt and my slippers and out we went to the backyard. This time I could hear the morning songs of the birds. We were back inside quickly, and I surprised myself by falling asleep until 8:30. Gracie slept a bit longer.

During the summer of the Watergate hearings, I stayed glued to the television. I was fascinated. I heard the revelation the president taped everything and the reaction of the committee. I loved Sam Ervin, his sense of humor, his outrage and his dogged hunt for the truth. I remember Howard Baker, a republican, sitting beside Ervin asking, “What did the President know, and when did he know it?” It was a bipartisan committee dedicated to finding the truth. That is no longer possible.

My lawn was mowed for the first time this season yesterday. The air was filled with the sweet aroma of the newly mowed grass. The problem, though, is now you can see the connect the dots game on my lawn. During the early springtime, I took Gracie to the front yard to pee. Now you can see all the dead lawn dots. Sebastian, my neighbor and landscaper, and I spoke this morning. He is going to reseed those spots. He is not happy with my lawn or my front garden. He is going to mulch the garden. The beauty of my grass and yard is a matter of pride for him and me too.

 

It is still sweatshirt weather during the day and blanket weather at night. My heat goes on for just a bit every morning. The house was cold at 3 when Gracie and I went outside. I was glad to get back under the covers.

We have a couple of errands to do today. Both Gracie and Maddie are out of treats and Maddie keeps making her displeasure known. Gracie, though, is willing to take substitutes. She munched a piece of scali bread with butter and ate a bit of cheese then lowered herself to eat a dog biscuit. Both of them are now sleeping. I am blessed.

Categories: Musings
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“My mom said the only reason men are alive is for lawn care and vehicle maintenance.”

July 8, 2016

I have emerged. The windows and doors are open. Today is much cooler and the AC is unnecessary. Earlier it sprinkled for a bit and the rain has left a chilly dampness. The day is dark, another leftover from the rain.

My usual quiet is disturbed as my bushes are getting trimmed. I guess my neighbor noticed I have been bending down the branches of the wild roses so I can get to my car without the thorns attacking me.

Yesterday I was organizing my little library when I saw a piece of paper on the lawn right near the library. I picked it up thinking it was trash. It wasn’t. It was a check for landscaping and was close to $1700.00. I looked up the company and gave the owner a call. He just called and is on his way over to pick up the check. Come to find out my neighbor across the street found another of his checks. It was in the amount of $1200.00. How does that happen?

When I was a kid, people did their own landscaping. Mowing was a Saturday event. All the fathers in the neighborhood were out with their push mowers. I remember all the clicks from those mowers. My father mowed his lawn in a certain pattern which was why he never trusted us to mow. We were just fine with that. He mowed every Saturday unless it rained. He made it a ritual.

When I was growing up, some things were always men things while other things belonged only to women. Men never cooked in the kitchen, but they were the only ones who barbecued. I figure outside cooking harkened back to caveman times when the hunters rotisseried their game over an open flame. Women cleaned up. Men never did.

Once when my mother was away and my father was left to his own devices he had to a wash. He had no idea how the washing machine worked. He used the sink to wash his clothes, and because he also did not know how the dryer worked, he put the wet clothes on a line he strung in the kitchen.

Later on in life my father would help clean up in the kitchen. He was happy to help. He’d fill the dishwasher and scrub the pans. After he was finished and had gone in to watch TV, we’d rewash the pans. He always left residue he never noticed. We never told him.

In the summer, whenever I visited my parents for the weekend, I was certain of three things about my father. He would take me outside to admire his lawn, he would barbecue on Saturday night and he’d always cook Sunday breakfast. He’d even take orders on the eggs.

Categories: Musings
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“A lawn is nature under totalitarian rule.”

May 5, 2015

The morning is warm but cloudy. Rain is a possibility, but I won’t mind because we haven’t had much rain lately. A while back we had days of rain then it stopped, plugged by an unseen hand. Gracie and I have a couple of errands later including our first stop at the garden center. I have a list of flowers I hope to add to the front garden, and I know what herbs and veggies I want.

When I was a kid, I never thought flowers would become important to me. My father and his pansies were all I knew. Few of the yards around us had gardens either because my neighborhood was filled with lawn people. A green, lush, beautiful lawn was a status symbol. It had to be mowed just right and frequently watered. On hot days we’d run through the sprinkler which sort of annoyed my dad. It wasn’t good for his lawn to have us tamp it down as we ran. The neighbor behind us was a radical lawn lady. Even though we shared a hill, she never wanted us walking on the grass. She’d yell from her kitchen window if we dared pass the line of demarcation between her part of the hill and ours. It wasn’t a real line, but it was the visual boundary between her yard and ours, between a lush lawn and just grass. My father didn’t care about that hill. It was his front lawn which he tended lovingly.

When my parents came to visit, my dad brought all his lawn tools including his mower. My mother and I would go shopping, and my dad would tend my yard. He’d mow and rake the grass then trim the bushes. He’d even venture into my wild backyard and mow the tall grass, reminiscent more of a field than a lawn. I think my neighbors were probably cheering as I never mowed until I figured the grass was high enough to make it worth my while. When my mother and I would get home, my dad would give us the grand tour of all he’d done. The difference was amazing. He always made my front yard looked cared for and loved. That was his gift to me, one he enjoyed giving. I loved him even more for it.

Categories: Musings
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