April 18, 2009
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i love mowing the lawn.
i think in our neighborhood of college students and retired folk i was the only one up at 10:00am Saturday morning. the first mow of the season. i mowed the neighbor’s yard and then he let me use the mower for our lawn. because i can’t start our mower. i pull and pull and pull but no good. He asked me how much he owed me, i said it was even stevens. mower for mowed lawn. His name is Walt. He likes me. he is 85.
it brings back so many memories. i have a picture of me mowing the lawn when the lawn mower was taller than me. i was short for a long time. i think i was 11. or 12. i looked down at my green covered shoes and smelled the chives i just ran over. we have a lot of chives. i still feel bad when i mow over violets. Dandilions are weeds, but pretty. Violets are flowers. they are lovely. but i mow over them. And i still, in 15 years of mowing experience (DANG!), cannot manage to mow straight. i have decided to blame the yard. the yard isn’t straight. mis-proportioned. because i always end up with triangles of spots. i feel like a slight failure, but not really. it is too pretty a day.
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i took a jog to my special spot. and three little boys were there. they looked up at me and one had the audacity to say “lots of people come here now.” my face must have mentioned something about feeling intruded upon.
but it is the perfect day for adventuring. so i forgave them gracefully.
i saw a huge turtle and found a goose nest.
and i cut a mohawk for John.
