Carol Jane Remsburg
Each Spring it arrives. The bitter cold has given way to raw rain and windy weather with rather chilly temperatures, but things begin to come green and the first to the fore is the grass. Whether you have a stellar sod lawn totally maintained by a professional landscaping company or, like me, have a mishmash of crabgrass, weeds, and a couple splots of the real thing, it all turns green by the second week of April.
Once the brown turns to green, it doesn't start growing right away, the color change is your warning notice. "Time is short, get the mower ready!" If those clues are not picked up quickly, you can end up with foot-tall grass before you blink. True to form, I never heed warning signals.
The old mower never had the gas and oil drained. I didn't buy new blades or get the old ones sharpened—or even scraped that stuck on guck from the undercarriage from last year's mowing season. Um, and I really need a new tube for that right rear tire—we have to pump it up for every mowing event. Then, suddenly, the backyard, not to mention the front yard, begins to take on the appearance of photosynthesis riot. Oh, the trees are blooming and the forsythia came and went…but the green of the grass is aggressive. It's not even pretty anymore. I rather think the old machete in the garage isn't up to the task of taming the yard.
From chickweed to clover, it's constantly busy—growing. Nature is at odds with me, providing all the rain and sunshine the green needs to flourish. Meanwhile, the temps are still on the coolish side trying to deflect my attention from where it needs to be. Furtively it grows and with every dawn…it's a little taller.
Last week, for the first time in three years, hubby surprised me and rooted out the mower for the initial cut of the season. He promised me a new tube for the tire, I didn't expect him to cut the grass. I just wanted to be able to get at the mower itself as it had been buried by visiting storage via family members in the garage. He dug it out, pumped up the tire, fired it up, and mowed the yard. I could have fainted.
Now, it's 11 days later. It has rained nearly every day. The grass has remained wet but is growing like its on steroids, or at least MiracleGro™. It was even pouring down rain this morning—and later cleared. The winds picked up and I braved hanging out laundry. It dried quickly even though the lush greenery was still heavy and wet. I didn't dare try it.
Now my calendar is clear. It's mowing season so each evening I have to check to see if I can cut the grass, and then hope for clear weather for the next go 'round.
Any bets on if I get a new tube for that tire this year?