On the last weekend in April, in an unusual warm spell, I cut the front lawn for the first time this season. As is often the case in the early spring, the grass was lush and thick. But my mower did the trick quite nicely. I debated cutting the back lawn, which was also thick and in need of a mowing. But I ultimately opted to play with the boy instead, figuring that I'd get the job done on some upcoming sunny day.
That sunny day never really materialized. And Saturday, after nearly two weeks of steady rain, the mower and I faced off against the back lawn. There are no before pictures because I was so ashamed of how things looked. My backyard had become a pasture, more suited to a couple of goats than a middle-aged suburban mama and her mower. I don't have any goats. So I set forth to conquer the field.
In the thickest section of the pasture, things were touch and go for the mower. I ended up cutting the grass in thin lines, doubling back over the entire lawn so as to more evenly chop the hay and keep the motor on my mower from being overwhelmed. It usually takes me less than 30 minutes to cut the back lawn. But Saturday's cutting was an hour-long affair. For most of it, I was in fear that my mower would just give up the ghost.
As a consequence, I am prepared to make this vow: Never again will I miss a sunny-day opportunity to cut the grass. The photo below is an after picture:
Please distract your attention from the giant piles of fresh cut grass by admiring the blooms on the dwarf apple trees in the back.
Gratuitous picture of the lovely dogwood in the backyard:
And our old friend, Mr. Tree:
The backyard is shaping up for yet another hanging around outside season. I can't wait.