Thursday, May 01, 2008

Big May Mow ...

Today was the first mow of the year.

My grass really needed to be mowed a week or two ago, but I couldn't face my lawnmower in April. Because once I start mowing, I'm faced with mowing once – sometimes twice – a week until well into November. Seven months of mowing is plenty. I don't want to contemplate eight.

Mind you, I like mowing. I like the instant gratification of it. And I can always use the cardio.

But seriously: We can put a man on the moon but we can't develop a strain of grass that grows to three inches and then stops?

Today I tackled both the front and back yards. As I mowed out back, I ran across some tufts of fur, which reminded me that I witnessed a cat fight a couple weeks ago. I spied a flurry of fur outside my office window. There are several cats who wander in and out of my yard, My neighbor takes care of them, though they're not really her cats. But one of the tails was striped, which made me think I might be witnessing a raccoon-cat fight.

And then they both stopped moving, which made me think I might have witnessed a mutual raccoon-cat murder. Catslaughter? Racoonslaughter? Then they started brawling again. This time, I saw blood. Ah, geez. What's the protocol in that situation? It didn't seem to make sense to go outside and try to break it up. (I had visions of sitting in the ER, getting my first of five rabies shots, explaining to the nurse that I was trying to save a feral cat.)

Then they stopped moving again. Ah, geez. Now was I going to have to call animal control to retrieve carcasses from my yard?

And then they both got up and sort of looked around like, "Huh. OK, then." I smacked my window molding and they looked at me, then they both sauntered off.

The "raccoon" was in fact a cat. Or some mutant raccoon-cat hybrid, but definitely not purebred raccoon.

Anyway, as I was saying, I really love the instant gratification that comes from cutting grass, the chance to watch my progress unfold. And now that it's cut, the weekly maintenance will be pretty easy.

Though I wouldn't mind having a hunky gardener boy. And he could cut the grass, too.

(Insert rimshot here.)

Goodnight, everybody! I'm here all week! Try the veal!

P.S. When I was done with my big May mow (I love saying that: big May mow, big May mow ...), I snapped a few shots of my pretty tulips. When I moved into the house, my friend Joanne brought me bulbs as a housewarming gift – a brilliant idea. She suggested planting them in a place where I'd see them every day. So I choose a spot right along my front sidewalk, so I'd see them whenever I left the house and whenever I came home. I bought a bulb-digger thingee (I was taking my bulb-planting task very seriously and wanted the official equipment to do the job) and then discovered that my soil is like solid clay, so I used a small garden trowel instead. Which I bent in the hard soil. So I bought a better garden trowel and dug down and planted my bulbs, but not deeply enough. I know this because squirrels managed to dig up most of the bulbs and take one dainty bite out of each one before leaving them next to the mounds of dirt like so many discarded chocolates. But a few have stayed in the ground. And this year, I have seven flowers. And now I have them preserved digitally. And I get to see them every day because I made this picture my computer's wallpaper.

4 Comments:

Anonymous nat said...

Tulips--my favorite. So bright, so colorful. YUM. Yay Spring!

9:24 AM  
Blogger Mercurie said...

The tulips do look lovely. Ours just came up this week. And, of course, our yard needs to be mowed...

6:51 PM  
Blogger J. Marquis said...

I love mowing the lawn. Like you say, it's great instant satisfaction.

4:14 PM  
Anonymous Mikeachim said...

Saturday was Mow Day for this house - my housemate did the mowing, and I did a little weeding, and then belatedly took antihistamine while sneezing convulsively and feeling stooopid.

Must admit, though, I quite like a little-bit-overgrown garden. As I sit here writing this on the dining room table, my housemate is outside, snapping at anything exposed with a pair of secateurs. (That's why I'm not out there).

English gardens should be tamed - but never *tame*.

6:24 AM  

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