Look out lawn mower ... here I come
I love the outdoors. As a child, I tried to figure out ways to get outside and stay outside.
I would get on my bike or walk down the street and find many ways to get involved in things just so I could stay outside until dinner time. I was a tomboy. I always told my parents I should have been a boy.
My brother delivered the paper back in the days when it was safe to ride your bike or walk the paper route, I was his helper. I loved walking the route with him he would even let me wear the paper bag with the orange reflective strap on it and carry the load even if it was too heavy for me. He taught me how to throw them on the porches and in the yard without skinning the paper up too much.
I would ride my bike in my neighborhood looking for someone to race, go to a friend’s house nearby to hang out. At times, I would even ask my dad to let me help load wood when he was chopping firewood to sell or for use in our buck stove, just to get outside. Of course, I use to get mad when I was always the one that had to bend over to pick up the wood to throw to Dad instead of being the stacker. He said my back was younger and I was closer to the ground. I completely understand that now, Dad.
After getting married and having a child, I don’t have the luxury of being able to be outside as often as I did as a child. There is all that “woman’s work” of preparing meals for your family, cleaning dishes, cleaning house, helping with homework, washing clothes … Yuck! Although I do enjoy caring for my family, I would just prefer if all those duties could just be outside.
I always look forward to cutting grass in the spring and summer months. It not only gives me a chance to soak up some vitamin D and get out of the house, I love smelling fresh cut grass especially with those wild onions at times coming up.
My husband, Mark, is not a big fan of cutting grass, I think he gets bored with it. We also cut his mother’s grass as well because she lives beside us, so it is a bit of a task to do that weekly. I love it, and he knows I love it; however there is one small issue. My husband is very particular about everything.
Especially when it comes to tools, vehicles and equipment.
I guess you could say I can at times be a tad reckless and have been “grounded” several times (yes, that is right, I said grounded) from using the lawn mower.
I tend to cut close to objects and don’t always judge their distance, so I am either banging and denting up the deck, running over objects that I thought I was going to miss, or for instance a month ago when I was cutting the grass I forgot about a small hole our beagle dog dug in our front yard and unfortunately, I got distracted and was looking at Mark, and I ran right over the hole with the front tire. I think that could be the reason that every time we mow, he has to put more air in the tires.
Take it from me, don’t ever run over a rope either, now that was a mess. It got all twisted around the blade, he spent several hours trying to get that cut loose. I have finally learned not to cut on the hill of our front yard either. I turned the lawn mower almost completely over when I did not listen to his instructions of leaving the hill for him to cut.
Mark has told me it is just best if he cuts the grass, it just takes less time for him to do it than it does for me to tear something up. He tries really hard to be patient with me, and I honestly have been trying harder to pay more attention. I don’t do things on purpose. I guess I get caught up in singing as I am riding and just thinking about things and unwinding down from all that “woman’s work” from the inside.
Well, I am looking forward to the weekends again because … I have earned my privileges back. Look out all you trees, holes, bushes and stepping stones. I will be riding the green machine once again! Thanks, honey for not giving up on me!
Lori Spurling is the publisher/ad director for The Daily Courier. She can be reached at email@example.com.