Bob won't be able to mow the lawn for awhile yet, and I was eager to see what I could do. My experience: one brutal session with an old push mower 50 years ago and one or two passes around the back yard a few decades back, when Bob was on a motorcycle trip at the height of the growing season. I needed our neighbor's help to start the mower, and I remember the experience as noisy, smelly and only marginally successful.
Armed with ear plugs and Bob's extensive mowing knowledgebase, I headed out for the first time last Thursday, and was inordinately proud when I succeeded in doing most of the lawn, under careful supervision, of course. This morning, probably our only dry day this week, I did all but the boulevard, a manageable flat surface for Bob.
The job is done with two mowers. The first is a self-propelled Honda, very conventional, with a tendency to "get away" from the operator. Its main advantage is its "one-pull" start that even an inexperienced, non-mechanical person like me can start. The second mower is a "FlyMo" rescued from the neighbor's trash, used to mow the bank down to the sidewalk. It's quite a contraption: a mower that "floats" on the surface of the grass, adapted by Bob for the bank with a old water ski rope attached to and wrapped around the mower handle. Holding on to the ski handle, I lower the mower to the bottom of the bank, maintaining just enough control to cut the grass. I couldn't help laughing, knowing full well why cars slow down as they pass by.
Now that I've got the hang of it, I really enjoy mowing the lawn. The task is clear; the results are visible and measurable, immediately gratifying. The smell of fresh grass is a refreshing sensory experience of summer, right up there with a cold beer. The job has a beginning and an end, though the freshly mown look fades quickly.
I'm going to give myself an "A" for this one.
