I’m in a sound sleep this morning and suddenly loud chanting awakens me. “Mow the lawn!” They scream. Oh, Oh; the lawn vigilantes are calling for my head. Well, I had planned to mow it today so rather than risk being drawn and quartered by this unruly mob, I crawl out of bed, fortify myself with four cups of coffee, and go out to the garage. I do a quick tune up on my mower and pull the start cord. Vroom. Let’s do it!
I attached the clip bag to the mower because I didn’t want any grass clippings to mar this lush, green carpet. One and a half rows later the bag fills up. This is not a good sign. Also, the mower is stalling every couple of seconds, literally choking on the grass. This is not a good sign either. I detach the bag and convince myself that mulching the lawn will be beneficial to its health. I raised the mower deck to its highest setting. Pull the cord and continue. I am mowing half rows now because the grass is so high. I fondly recall wasting a vacation day spreading fertilizer on my lawn. So, that combined with torrential rain equals grass that is eight and a half inches tall. Interesting. My iPod is playing a nice mix, the sun is out, and I’m exercising. Cross training if you will.
Suddenly a van pulls up at the top of the street. A group of well-dressed African-Americans emerge and begin to fan out into the neighborhood. Oh, Oh, this can only mean one thing. The Jehovah Witnesses are back in town. Well, this could be a welcome diversion. Maybe we can discuss why G-d created weeds and grubs. Sadly all they wanted to do was to give me a free copy of the Watch Tower. I politely decline and go back to the business of mowing. As an aside, I have to respect a religion that relies on the soft, rather than the hard sell. Jews, however, don’t even have a sales division. If you want to join us and suffer, well, welcome aboard. L’Chaim!(Hebrew toast which means To Life!).
I’m finishing the lawn and marveling at how wonderful it looks. I’m also marveling at all of the things that I found. The lost Kong ball for my dog, the pegs for the horseshoe scorekeeper, and the horseshoe pits as well. I think I also spotted D. B. Cooper, but can’t be certain. I am proud that I singlehandedly raised the property values of my street. I put the mower away, open the Yellow Pages and look up landscapers. This is going to be a long season.