I have a love/hate relationship with mowing our lawn. We live on a ridiculous hill. Ridiculous! It's a hard won battle, especially since I push mow in flip flops that maybe cost $1. I fight through the pain. I have quiet time. Lots of times you might think I was talking to myself. I might be singing or praying, habits that started when I was about four just ask my Mom. While I might be praying that I don't fall down the ridiculous hill in the wet flip flops that I insist on wearing, or for forgiveness for the awful thoughts I might have harbored for my husband on days that I think the mower is set too low, it's generally more self reflection.
In my quiet time with my old red push mower, I think about the girls. I consider each one and what I could be doing differently. Then I look up. The hill is just high enough in my backyard that the teenagers across the street can watch me FROM THE POOL. They wave and laugh. I pray for forgiveness... again. Eventually I get to the gratification I get when it's all done and you can see it; and unlike a mopped floor, no one will mess it up 5 minutes later... but I digress.
As I was finishing up my mowing this morning, I was thinking about another mower. A couple of people including my mother voiced surprise that I hadn't told a story here yet. Today, I think I will... A Tale of Two Mowers. I don't know why I haven't told it before. Maybe I was waiting for the second mower to come around. Today, as I was mowing, I decided it is because I think for the last 12 years, my mother hasn't aged a bit. I like it that way. You know how you want your kids to stay at a certain age for maybe 2 or 3 years instead of 12 short months? That's how I am with my mother. She is keeping up with us. I'm so thankful she's healthy. She is exactly the same to me today as she was 12 years ago only maybe better. This story I'm about to tell, made me question her a bit. I still don't think she's aged a day in the past 12 years but this little story made me stop and think about it.
So a few Saturdays ago, I was outside fussing over tomato plants. I heard the phone ring. When it's my mom, I hear a separate ring on my cell that lets me know it's her. Ray is strolling outside and I hear him say, "B is outside... What? Wait? Are you okay? What happened? Are you sure you're okay?" He starts laughing and he casually hands me the phone. I don't remember a whole lot about the conversation other than the fact that I could tell Mom needed to be calmed down. It was also one of those handful of times that I wished I lived as close to her as she lived to her own mother at my age.
My mom has a zero turn riding lawnmower. This is Ray riding on it.
This is my brother. Sitting on the mower. He dove in to put chains on it so it could be pulled out.
Don't worry about the mower. Luckily there is also a mechanic in the family. She's been drained, refilled and kept away from Grandma. That is not the end of this story. There is a second mower.
A couple of weeks later the weather was getting hotter. My phone rang. "Well, I did it again." I couldn't imagine what Mom was talking about. She decided that the big orange mower wasn't for her. She was push mowing the bank of the pond. She is terrified of snakes and apparently, keeping the grass at the bank short will at least let her see them coming. It was so hot. She decided to take a little break. She walked away from the push mower to rest in her swing. When she turned around the push mower had rolled back down the bank into the pond. I can't imagine the words in my stepfather's head that day. I'm not sure when she decided to tell him.
And that's how this became the Tale of Two Mowers.
Grandma, I think it's time to hire a high schooler to mow.