Mow, mow, mow your lawn

This weekend I re-joined the ranks of the grass-cutting public. For the past 6 years, we have lived in apartments or duplexes that included "gardening" services. Each week, someone else showed up and mowed the grass, trimmed the hedges and swept up the clippings.  I did nothing. I didn’t call, collaborate or pay these diligent workers. They just did their job and the grass never grew too long. Honestly, I don’t recall seeing many homeowners in California mow their own lawn. It seemed to be universally accepted that you paid someone else to tend your grass.

Now that I’m a homeowner, the task is back on my shoulders. Since moving in, we have received numerous flyers advertising affordable lawncare services. I shunned those services, however, in favor of mowing the grass myself. Megan’s brother was kind enough to give us his lawnmower (he has cheerfully abdicated his lawn duties and no longer has use for a mower). It’s a good thing too, since the recent warm weather in our area has prompted some growth. Unfortunately, our lawn is composed more of weeds than of St. Augustine at this point. I spent at least half an hour pulling the largest weeds before trimming the tops of the remaining weeds. In our neighborhood, we are surrounded by impeccable lawns. Megan was embarrassed that our lawn was so unsightly.

I’m not completely opposed to paying to have my yard mowed. But, if I’m going to have professional mowers, I think my lawn should get special care. It better have that criss-crossed pattern on it like the grass in the outfield at Major League Baseball games. If I ever see a flyer advertising patterned lawn-mowing, I might consider it. I just figured that while I have more spare time than spare money, I should do it myself.

Our new lawnmower is the self-propelled type which makes it easier to push. However, there is but one drive speed–a moderate pace akin to walking. I remember mowing lawns when I was about 12 years old. I would run back and forth across the lawn, mowing as fast as possible in a sort of race against time. After all, if you were getting paid to mow, it was better to be done in 20 minutes than 40. I didn’t run like that this weekend, but I thought about it. Looking back at it now, sprinting wildly while pushing a gas-powered, spinning, steel blade may have been a bit foolish. Luckily, I made it through adolesence with all my toes. What more can you ask for?