I have begun a new love affair tonight – don’t worry, Jeff knows. We have an arrangement. I am now allowed to mow the lawn whenever I wish… because what has captured my heart is our push mower.
I kid you not. Being Miss SoCal who grew up with beds of succulents where a lawn should be, I had only ever seen the good old fire ’em up kind of mower, like gardeners use. The kind that everyone seems to want to crack out at 7am on Saturday so that the roar echoes between the houses and irks all teenagers trying to sleep in. Tonight I pulled out the sweet little push mower that belongs to our association and walked it row by row through our soft grass, Olive watching nearby and trying to sneak freshly cut spears into her mouth whenever I wasn’t looking. Other than hawkeye-ing my munchy little girl, I was completely transported. Had I closed my eyes, I would’ve been soaring down a hill on my bike, hair flying behind me, the beads I’d put on the spokes of my wheels pinging their little melody sweetly in my ears. That’s what a push mower sounds like.
Add to that the scent of freshly mowed grass, the relaxing tread through spongy earth, and the rhythm of row upon row and you’ve got a perfectly lovely half hour. I shall try to do it as often as I can (and/or is actually necessary) whilst the ground is unfrozen. Which, sadly, is never that long.