Freshly Mowed Lawn

When I was kid, I hated to have mow lawns (but I liked the money). No one pays me to do it now, but I love yard work. This afternoon, I walked straight through the house after arriving home from work and to the shed to get the string trimmer. I bought a gas-powered string trimmer a few weeks ago and I’ve been trying to master edging with it. I didn’t even bother change clothes. I just started edging.

After getting the back yard done, I let the dogs back in (they were traumatized enough from 20 minutes of buzzing sounds). I actually changed into my mowing/painting clothes and came back out to finish the front yard. I then pulled out the mower and got down to business. I began to think about when I was a teenager and I mowed lawns around the block and at the church for money. I used to listen to thrash metal (Anthrax, Testament, Pantera and Death Angel, how could I forget DA!) really loudly on my old Sony Walkman. I still get flashes of headbanging when I’m out whipping my push mower around.

Now, I see mowing the lawn as a kind of relaxing. The repetitiveness and patterns appeal to my OCD nature. There’s the sense of accomplishment as I close in on the last little strip of tall grass. The feeling of taming something wild. It isn’t because I’m trying to impress the neighbors, because God knows, my lawn looks like shit (and I have the photos to prove it). I simply enjoy doing it for myself.

Also, Angela recently pointed out that during the warm months when I’m mowing the lawn regularly, she thinks I’m slightly less of a lazy husband than during the rest of the year. That’s cool, too.

This evening, when I was all finished, I just sat down on the deck bench and began to doze off to the smell of freshly cut grass and gently humming thrash metal tunes to myself…