It’s only been this summer that I’ve grown to enjoy mowing my lawn. It actually quite surprises me considering my lifelong hatred of lawns, of grass, of the smell of freshly cut grass, of the way that freshly cut grass turns my shoes green, sacrificing them at the altar of the un-understandable rituals and expectations of the modern suburban life.
What has changed for me? Well, I’m not completely sure. It’s not like my lawn is a particularly good lawn. In fact, it’s filled with ever growing patches of crab grass. And each year the crab grass invasion grows worse despite whatever fertilizers and chemicals the grounds crew sprays all over my yard in the spring.
I do know one aspect of why I have come to enjoy mowing, and it’s that my lawn mower is electric. Gone are the days of red cans of gasoline along with the worries about oil mixtures and all that. As a teenager I hated to mow the lawn because of how I would smell afterwards: that terrible mixture of dirty exhaust and that freshly cut grass, two smells that many people seem to love, but I cannot stand.
Electric mowers are much quieter, and with noise cancelling headphones and a good audiobook, the hum of the engine is barely noticeable. I can only feel the vibrations of the engine in my hands gripped on the handlebars. This is a major selling point for me.
I do enjoy the little bit of a workout I get from mowing my lawn, too. My Boys Town kids will see our neighbors on their riding lawn mowers and suggest that we need to get one as well, that riding lawn mowers would get the job done a lot faster, and they’re much more enjoyable. Most of my kids were shocked when I told them that I’ve never used one, nor do I intend to. Our yard is too small for such a thing, and I don’t want to spend the money on purchasing one, and I definitely don’t want to worry about repairs and upkeep. (Currently my Prius is sitting with a flat tire in my driveway, and has been sitting that way for the last month or so). And I already dislike how much room my current push mower takes up in my garage, so I definitely don’t want to think about storing a riding lawnmower in there.
Before I start mowing my lawn I make sure to start an “outdoor walk” on my Apple Watch. I enjoy looking at the path I’ve tracked after I’m done. Lines that worm back and forth, over and over in my yard. I walk about 1.75 miles in total, and I find that fact motivating to get out and mow.
It’s at this time of year that my yard looks the most shabby, though. The crab grass has finally matured and conquered huge swaths of my front yard. And it grows fast. I’m glad I don’t truly care about growing whatever variety of grass that fills the rest of my yard, the variety slowly getting choked out by the crab grass’ long and many reaching arms.
Ok, I fibbed a bit. I guess I do care just a bit about how my lawn looks. I care enough to start pulling on the arms of the crab grass as the plants sew and weave their way along the soil, through the roots of the desired grasses of my lawn. I let my fingers crawl and feel for the source of the arms of the crab grass. I find my way to the base. I let my fingers sink a bit deeper into the soil at their roots, and then I grab ahold and tug with a careful twist and with a steady yank, I pull them out of the ground. (As I write this I’ve noticed that it sounds oddly sensual, which I had no intention of doing, but I do suppose there is a pleasure in the satisfaction of pulling out an entire crab grass clump). I shake out the dirt and soil captured in the roots and then go looking for another.
I’m constantly amazed by how large the weed pile grows on my front sidewalk as I toss the captured crabgrasses into heaps. If I stayed with it for a while, (which is rather easy to do, it starts to feel like a compulsion for me), I could likely fill an entire trash can full of the unwanted crab grass. To do so seems like a silly waste of my time. There’s always more crab grass. But this sort of a waste of time is still a delight, as most wasting of time activities are for me these days.
Stepping Back 