By Lorry Myers
One of my chores when I was a kid was mowing the lawn. My brother and I typically took turns, relieving one another from a task we both hated. I didn’t like the bugs or the blowing grass or the push mower that took all I had to propel it across the yard.
I’d rather wash dishes than mow.
Other people find comfort and solace in spending time alone on a mower. The sun on your back and the rumble of the engine is sometimes welcome company. These yard people plan their calendar and their day around cutting their grass. They study weather maps and moisture levels, then panic when their neighbors start mowing and they are not. Often these experts plot their mowing path using random rotations and reverse routines for reasons I can’t grasp.
For some people, mowing is serious business.
One of those people is my husband. Randy stands at the window and paces if it rains too close to his designated mowing date. He mows grass before guests arrive, he mows when he is bored, and he has been known to mow right before dark in case something happens overnight and he can’t mow the next day. He will mow when it needs it and he will mow when it doesn’t and he will always end up mowing when he hears the neighbors doing it.
Randy is a mowing machine.
When we first got married, my new husband found an old riding mower in the barn that looked like it had been there awhile. Randy gave it a once over: new tires, and new plugs and old blades that were newly sharpened. That little mower didn’t cut a very large swath and didn’t run at lightning speed but I didn’t really care.
I wasn’t the one mowing.
One day, Randy decided that I could save him time by mowing the yard while he
push-mowed the fence row along the road in front of our little farmhouse. I explained in very plain language that I don’t like mowing. It makes me itch; it makes me sneeze and I would do anything to get out of it.
Mowing is not my thing.
“Oh, come on,” Randy said. “Riding a lawn mower won’t be like push mowing. This will be different.”
Mowing is mowing to me.
The next thing I knew, I was on the mower and Randy was going into graphic detail about the correct way to mow, also known as “the way Randy wants it.”
“You just can’t run outside and jump on the mower and mow,” Randy said. “You have to have a plan.”
A mowing plan.
For the complete column, see this week’s edition of the Centralia Fireside Guard.