From a yard-maintenance perspective, I am quite the letdown on the neighborly scale. But I do bake cookies – and muffins and scones and bread and such – and share with them to atone for my horticultural sins.
Yesterday, with the overcast weather and the cool temps, I hauled out the mower so that I might return my lawn to a more respectable state.
I pop in earplugs when I mow – the squishy, florescent orange kind – as I would like to preserve my hearing for as long as possible, and I keep my eyes mostly trained on the lawn as I mow, trying to keep the rows straight, lest my lawn end up looking like it was cut by a staggering drunk.
But I looked up at one point to see one of my aforementioned neighbors pushing his mower over to my parkway.
I stopped mowing and plucked the ear plugs out of my ears.
"Are you bored?" I called over to him. We met at the midpoint of my sidewalk.
He said he needed to move as he'd gotten away from walking as much as he's been trying to walk, so he figured he'd come over and help.
I happily accept any and all mowing assistance. So he mowed and I mowed and in short order, we turned the front lawn into something damn near resembling a putting green.
I sat on my front stoop sipping some water and watched a robin hop around the newly shorn grass, pecking into the ground for bugs or worms or whatever it was finding.
And then I tackled the back yard, wondering why the hell the grass in my back yard always seems to be more of job to mow than the grass in the front, and then I realized:
My back yard gets far more sun throughout the day.
Especially since the storm a couple years ago that wiped out two of my trees and caused me to have a third cut down.
Yeah, I need to plant some trees.