Walking Behind the Lawn Mower

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     I first began walking behind a lawn mower sixty-eight years ago, when my father decided I was old enough to share mowing duties with my brother Ralph. I am quite sure that I was eight and he was ten. Even at that age, some aspects of our personalities were showing. We alternated Saturdays, each of doing the entire lawn on our designated day. I would start by eight a.m. and mow steadily until I finished around noon. Ralph would start around ten, take a break at eleven, start again around noon, and continue that approximate schedule, often finishing after dinner. 

     Neither approach was better than the other, as the lawn always seemed to be mowed by the end of the day, but I soon learned that my method won praise from our father, while Ralph’s received ridicule. Of course, that reinforced my orientation to start early and work continuously. I still approach tasks in that manner, taking great satisfaction from crossing them off my list. I am seldom guilty of procrastination, but admit I sometimes jump into projects without considering all alternatives. My wife and I are well matched, as she tends to be the opposite of me.

     I took a hiatus from mowing when our children were of the age when they could do the chore. None of them seemed to have my need to get it done promptly (or at all), and I was often frustrated at having to nag them to get the chore completed. When all of them had left the home I resumed the duty, except for one year when I hired a landscaping firm to do it. This lasted only one season, as I watched paid professionals mowing my grass while I exercised on an elliptical. There was something wrong with that picture.

     I officially welcomed spring a few days ago by once again walking behind a lawn mower. My lawn is not quite big enough for a riding mower, and I take satisfaction that at age seventy-five I can put in the needed hour without undue fatigue. My goal is to be doing it when I am eighty and beyond. 

     Last year I bought a new mower with a thirty inch deck, thinking the larger cutting  width would cut the time it takes me to mow.  I knew the larger unit would be heavier, but since it is self-propelled, I thought it would make no difference.  However, turning it at corners and to trim around shrubbery takes considerably more muscle than previous ones.  I may have to revert to the smaller units if I am to still be doing it in five years.

     Despite the noise of the engine, mowing the grass is actually a “quiet” time for me, as only a small part of my mind needs to be present to the task. Good ideas seem to come to me as I watch the taller grass disappear below the deck and shorter grass appear behind it. I like for the grass to be tall enough for the improvement to be clear, but not so tall that clippings are visible. When the grass is growing rapidly, I may mow every three or four days to reap this effect.

     As I get older, an emerging problem is that the good ideas that come while mowing disappear by the time I am finished. Retrieving them from memory can be challenging. I could carry a small note book, and record them immediately, but I seldom think of doing so in advance.

     I have a friend who is ten years younger than me. He has moved into a community where all yard work is provided by the home owners association. He really likes being free of these obligations. That is fine for him, but I would miss the quiet time of walking behind the mower, and the satisfaction of taking credit for the improved appearance of the lawn.