By Lorry Myers
Growing up, I shared lawn moving duties with my brothers. We didn’t have a riding mower, instead, it was an old, red push mower my father managed to keep alive. I couldn’t start the thing, could barely push it and the noise was too much.
I hated mowing.
I found nothing enjoyable about it at all. The grass made me itch and the mower was a beast and I simply didn’t want to do it.
Still, I mowed.
After I married, my husband put me on an old riding mower that didn’t have reverse. With no riding mower skills, I did the best I could that day. When I was done, Randy looked around the yard and then looked at me.
“You are never mowing again,” my new husband said, with a grave look on his face.
Hmmm, I thought, I can live with that.
Along with the mowing ban, my husband also adopted a power tool policy. The policy basically states that I cannot start one, or hold one or use one without asking, and, if I ask, the answer is always “NO”. Most of the blowers and edgers and trimmers we owned were heavy and cumbersome and required some kind of secret formula of gas and oil. That, or the power tool would have a long cord and Randy believed I would surely cut it the first time I used it.
I let him believe what he wanted.
So, I have been pretty content to sit on the porch all these years and watch the yard work happen. Randy is good about keeping his equipment running so most of what he had was old and heavy and exhausting to start.
At least that is what it looked like to me.
Then one day, the mower quit mowing and the blower quit blowing and Randy brought home new ones. The new mower is an easy start with a cushy seat and the new blower is light weight and super powerful.
“Do you want to try it?” Randy asked, the red shiny blower making him forget all about his power tool policy.
Before I could answer, Randy started the blower and showed me how it worked. As I watched, I could tell, he was already regretting this. Finally, with brief instructions to blow the leaves, acorns and weird porcupine balls off the drive way, Randy reluctantly handed it over.
For the complete column, please see this week’s edition of the Centralia Fireside Guard.