Growing up, I never imagined lawn care would be so entertaining. It was always something to be endured, but not enjoyed. As with most things, you get out of it what you put in. With all the rain, the unmowable swamp from the low corner has grown beyond its previous boundaries. It easily encompasses three times the space now. The sun has been out most of yesterday and this morning, and I jumped at the chance to tame the wetlands. Apparently my unbridled excitement was a little premature. The grass has grown so tall, and so much moisture is still trapped underneath, the best I could do was cut some paths for the dogs to run along when they go out for a bark. I even used a plunge-and-rock motion, and I still kept stalling out the mower as it clogged with wet grass. At least now with the paths, the dogs won't get stickers in their hinies when they poop. Mama cares, kids. Really.
I lived in the dorms the first two years I was at university, and I moved in with a friend from photography class after the end of my sophomore year. She had been sharing a house with two other girls, and when a room opened up, I was happy to sublet it for the summer. I had never lived on my own before, and a day or two after I moved in, both of my new housemates left for three weeks. I was completely alone for the first time, no furniture or lawn equipment, neither money nor a car to use to acquire them. Neither of them had done any lawn maintenance for weeks, so within the first week by myself, I started getting tickets from the city about the height of the grass. I had no idea what to do. My deus ex machina arrived a couple weeks and three threatening letters later, in the form of a young man (probably close to my own age of 19 at the time) who was going door to door, offering to cut grass. He could only see the front (which was bad enough for the city of Boulder but was nothing compared to the back), and we negotiated a price somewhere around twenty dollars for the whole thing. It was all I had, if I recall correctly. It took him a couple hours to complete the job, and he had to fight foot-tall grass in the back that was choking his lawn mower and giving him as rough a time as I had this morning. He was so upset with me when I paid him the agreed-upon price, and I had to remind him that it was every penny I had in cash. He wanted more for tackling such an impossible task. I couldn't give what I didn't have, and he left, tired and displeased. I never saw him agin. To this day I can't decide which is my stronger takeaway, the guilt over making this guy work so much harder than he planned for no additional reward, or my irritation at the housemates for dumping this whole thing on me.
While I took a break to cool off and compose, the wind kicked up and another rain shower blew through (with the sun shining). I guess I will be waiting that much longer to finish the job.
I found a couple happy surprises while I was out today. First, I noticed the white hydrangea that had died back to a stump has bloomed for the first time since I started visiting this house, before we purchased it. I had only heard tales of it from the octogenarian neighbor, and I doubted I'd ever see a bloom. It was tangled up with a volunteer pumpkin that lassoed it and the ferns, but it is coming back! Then, while I was mowing a line along the southwest perimeter, I discovered something I didn't think was possible: ripe blueberries, untouched by birds, rodents, or insects. I practically shouted with the frabjous joy. I picked them and washed them. There's enough to flavor two cups of Greek yogurt, and sprinkle a few in a salad. Life can be a dream, sweetheart.
The paths you made for the dogs are hilarious.
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