That Vast Expanse of Green Crap

Carrion flies are God's way of saying, "Don't run over this with the lawnmower. Everyone loses."

It's that time of year again, when I spend months at a stretch feeling bad about how I haven't mowed my lawn in N days. Let's jump back, though. As we talked about buying a house, and looked for houses, and finally settled on one, and jumped feet-first, I proudly proclaimed that I couldn't wait to mow my lawn. I couldn't wait for lazy Saturday afternoons, cutting the grass and trimming around the edges and then coming inside for a cold beer. It genuinely seemed like a great afternoon: some exercise, pride of homeownership, and chilled libation all rolled into one activity.

Screw that!

We moved in August of 2007, in the dead of summer. The previous owners were getting on in years and had a lawn service, but I was a strapping 30-year-old guy who wouldn't (a) be caught dead paying someone five years younger than me to mow my lawn, or (b) obtain a riding mower for two-thirds of an acre. My parents were just transitioning to their house in Maine after a couple of years living (albeit financially uncomfortably) between their Massachusetts and Maine homes. As such they had two of a lot of things, which included two lawnmowers and two snow blowers. My timing was impeccable and I inherited an excellent snow blower as well as the lawnmower with which I'd mowed my parents' lawn a dozen years earlier. Both were in good shape, though, so while it has no bells & whistles I couldn't (and still can't) bring myself to replace the mower. It did change its own oil all over the garage floor this past winter, though, so perhaps we're nearing its end.

Not to say that the mower is why I'm averse to mowing, of course. It just sucks. My front lawn is a bit of a hill, and in full sun, and my back lawn is encroached by tangler vines, blackberry runners, and ticks. Honestly, though, I'm just far busier than I'd expected. OK, I'm lazier, too. I somehow anticipated having nothing better to do on the weekend than yard work. Well, there's yard work but there's also painting, or junk removal, or gardening, or furniture shopping, or visiting my parents, or playing golf, or grocery shopping, or, OK, playing Rock Band 2.

My neighbors don't help in the matter, either. On one side I have very nice people who take regular care of their lawn, which is fine, but we share a strip of grass between our driveways and my side of the strip rises in stark contrast over his neatly trimmed side. On the other side, I have a guy who seems to mow every other day and whose dog, I think, craps in my front yard on a frequent basis. I've dealt with dog crap having grown up with labs so it's at best a minor annoyance, but I can't help but wonder if my lack of lawn etiquette leads them to at least pretend not to notice their dog in my yard – never mind refuse to smile and wave when I pass them on the street, smiling and waving like a good suburbanite. They definitely seem to not like us, and we're not loud and no longer living in sin, so it's got to be the lawn.

To be fair, it's gotten bad a few times. Our first fall here, we went to Thailand for two weeks. I didn't manage to get to mowing for at least a couple of weeks before we left, so by the time we got back it was pretty crazy. Likewise last May, when I'd done it perhaps once that year but was overdue and then got Lyme Disease. In a delirious fever, I had to send Mo out with instructions for starting it (the rip cord will yank you right into the handlebar, teeth-first, if you're not particular with it) and mowing (don't blow clippings into a neighbor's side, etc) at which point parts of the back were knee-high. It was a bit damp, too, so she got halfway through the back and it clogged up and died.

I'm proud to say I'm getting better as the years move on, though. This is the third mowing season here and so far it's been pretty OK, at least relative to previous egregious fall-offs. It starts to look crappy to me earlier in length, I've been better about being proactive about it, etc.

I still secretly love it when it rains all weekend, though.