Whoever thought a lawn could be such work?
Want to start a neighborhood war? Let the dandelions grow. Don’t mow. Allow brown spot to spread. Let the sod web worms live. Guaranteed you’ll at least have the next-doors hostile.
The lawn has become my responsibility this past two years. We have a large yard in an area expected to be green. That’s the sub-religion of suburban America. And what does it cost? Uh, there’s weed & seed; fungicide; insecticide. That adds up. But the heaviest cost is in energy. I keep telling myself that it’s good exercise. Of course it is!
My neighbors must have a hoot watching my efforts. When it’s hot I have a nice rag or scarf tied around my forehead. ( Sweat in the eyes burns.) Holey jeans and a t-shirt with arms cut out conclude my ensemble.
Did I forget the gas and oil for the mower? Oh, yeah. Has to be checked each time. If I’m lucky, the mower starts up on the first pull of the starter cord. Sometimes it doesn’t. Then I have to get help. Lately it’s been pretty good. Hooray!
Emptying the mower bag when it’s full is a joy. When I first started to take care of the lawn, I accidentally got huge holes in the plastic bags because I let them blow against the mower’s hot engine. It took a couple of holes for me to learn the lesson: stand back from the mower with the wind blowing away from it, then dump the bag. The back muscles groan.
When the lawn is complete, the job isn’t. I get the little red wagon out (the wheel barrow has a flat tire) pack bags into it for three or four loads, pile them into the van and head for the recycling dump, tug them from the van and empty them. Aaaah! I’m nearly done. And a shower is in order.
Published in: Consumer Information