Lawn mowing season has arrived in the Mount Washington Valley.
Time to push. Time to sweat. Time to swat blood- sucking flies like it's your hobby. I love hearing the steady buzz of a lawnmower in the distance.
When I catch the subtle whiff of my neighbor's freshly trimmed lawn riding by on the breeze, it's like we made a connection without ever saying "hello"... But then we do say "hello" as I walk by with the dog, our eyes meeting just for a smile before he makes a u-turn on his riding mower and heads back up a seemingly endless stretch of grass in a very impressive straight line.I prefer a push mower.
I picked up a gas powered mower my second summer as a homeowner when I put off mowing for too long- and then it rained. The place looked deserted, and my reel mower couldn't cut it. However, the reel mower is my baby.
I can really get into some deep thoughts when I push that thing. It gives off this soothing pulse of metal brushing metal that sends me into a walking meditation.
The mowing season for me began at 7 am Monday morning. (I was excited!) I greased up my quiet reel and set off down my first row. Not long after I started I was in the zone, thinking about stuff. It was a new feeling this time. I was thinking I might put the house on the market. This was my maiden voyage across the yard and I had to go getting all heavy. This is not like me.
