The Lay of the Lawn

Have I ever shared the story about how I earned the “privilege” of mowing the lawn at age 10? No? Good. Here we go.

At age 10 my Daddy had a push mower, not unlike the one you see here. When I say push mower, I don’t mean power push mower – I mean, you had to PUSH IT WITH YOUR BODILY STRENGTH to make it go.

On Saturday mornings my Daddy would get up, have copious amounts of coffee (he still does that), yawn and stretch, read, and finally, when the morning was spent, he would get out and mow the yard.

And before you think I’m speaking poorly of my Daddy, know this – I’m not. He’s a hard working man, but Saturdays were precious for my working parents. And besides, just how much will the lawn grow in the three hours he spent relaxing on his Saturday morning? Not enough to make any bit of difference.

So back to my story. On this one fine Saturday morning I was probably tasked with helping my mother weed – something she seemed to like and something I desperately hated. I’m sure I looked up over at my Daddy mowing effortlessly back and forth in those nice and neat lines and thought, “Wow, the grass sure is greener on HIS side.”

Abandoning my post, I sauntered (because you know all 10 year olds “saunter”) over to my Daddy and asked if I could mow.

And because he’s as wise a man as he is a hard worker, he let me mow a row. And then, he let me mow another row…and another one.

It was not anywhere near as easy for me as he made it look; in fact, it was nearly impossible. I pushed until my body was parallel with the grass from all the effort it took. With the mower handle way above my ducked head I almost had to growl to meet the fierce challenge it took just to make the mower move.

Still, I DID make it move – back and forth…

…and around obstacles.

I pushed it across the yard multiple times until the job was completed.

Naturally, I was aglow when I was done – and while my parents thought it was from perspiration, I knew it was from the bliss of getting out of weeding. Seriously? What was I thinking? The glow? It didn’t last long.

After that day the job of mowing was turned over to me. Yes, you read that correctly. There were many days I would have given anything to get back to my weeding, but now that I had proven “what a wonderful lawn girl I was” there was no going back.

Two years later we moved into a new home with a bigger yard and my Daddy bought a power mower. Mind you, it still required me to walk behind it, but that is about it.

It had two speeds, turtle or hare, and I chose the hare because everyone knows faster is better, right? After running through some rose bushes I learned otherwise and moved it down to turtle mode.

Despite the new scars (both real and mostly imagined), I believe the day my Daddy brought that mower home may have been one of the greatest days of my youth. What 12 year old would say that?

As a parent it’s only natural to look up one day and realize history is repeating itself. This time the “I can do it” came from a 7 year old boy.

With his daddy’s hat dropping down his back and in his face, he pushed that mower back and forth and back and forth. It wasn’t easy for him – in fact, it was downright difficult.

He did it though.

And? He was proud.

After all, he escaped a much more arduous task – picking up Sweetgum Balls alongside his sister.

What do you bet he learned the grass isn’t always greener?

Yep. Like mother, like son.
Man, I’m glad we have a new lawn boy!