Monday, August 18, 2003
One year, four months, 29 days and 12 hours is exactly how long it took me to become disgusted with having to cut my lawn.
I’m not sure there are many folks out there who actually enjoy cutting their lawn, but I can say when we moved into our new house, I took great pride and joy in trying to beautify my lawn and yard. There was something very self-gratifying with trying to make my yard as nice as can be. And I must say, I did a good job getting it too look pretty spectacular, especially given the condition of it when we first moved in.
Allow me to paint you a picture. To say the previous owners took good care of the yard would be akin to saying the British have reliable intelligence capabilities. I’m pretty sure there may be some errant weapons of mass destruction somewhere in your yard. We didn’t buy the house for the yard, although its mere size (3/4 of an acre) and double-tiered level in back certainly made it attractive. However it was the perfection of the house that made it possible for me to overlook the crumbling stone wall and the four-foot wide dirt path running from the stream in the back all the way to the street out front, the product of an estuary pipe installed to prevent the basement from flooding. The tire tracks left by the previous owners move-out that destroyed the remainder of the yard still in good condition was a bonus. Needless to say, the yard needed work.
I made it my personal mission that first spring to begin cultivating the yard back to normal with my main challenge trying to grow grass on that 75-foot long dirt path. It was fun, a lot of work, but fun. By the time springtime rolled around this year, I’d fixed the stonewall and not only succeeded in growing grass on the dirt path, but had the lawn looking like Augusta National. And with most of the heavy lifting finished by June, I was looking forward to enjoying its splendor while having to nothing more than maintain the grounds. Then summer came in wetter than a rain forest and my yard went from Augusta to Amazon.
Water is of course good for a lawn, but too much can lend raise to pesky critters such as grubs that just love to eat the roots of your lawn. They did a number on mine. While I did take the proper precautions of laying down fertilizer to kill these critters, too much rain rendered it nearly ineffective. What lots of rain is good for is spawning crab grass, which near as I can tell grows at nearly ten times the rate of normal grass. I swear no sooner would I cut my lawn that I could see this stuff grow before my eyes. My lawn would go from freshly cut to jungle in less than three days. Throw in the fact that it takes a minimum of two hours to cut my lawn, a lawn with more peaks and valleys than the Berkshires, and you can see where cutting it even once a week is tough in dry conditions. But when wet, it’s a least a three-hour job. Which brings me to last Friday.
We were in the midst of a long stretch of tropical, Florida-type weather replete with hot thick muggy air and daily downpours. Realizing I wasn’t going to catch much of a break in terms of the lawn drying out at all and with sections of my lawn pushing a foot high in a mere week’s time, I fired-up my Toro. I purchased this Toro earlier this season after its predecessor, a 15-year-old hand me down Toro, quit on me back in May. If only I had the same foresight. This new mower had the all-important self-propel system that took a little bit of the burden of me. Its mulching abilities were perfect for the non-bagging method I employ in the back. However, this system mulches so well, that it has a tendency to build up wet grass on the underside resulting in the blade jamming and me needing to tip the mower on its side and scrap the grass out. With so much rain, you can imagine how frustrating this can get. It was about the 20th time of performing this ritual that I gave up, storming into the house vowing never to cut the grass again.
Actually, it was probably more like kicking and screaming like a two-year old. Still, I refuse to cut that damn lawn. Yes, it has only been five days, but I’m holding out, at least until the wife makes me cut it because I know we’re not hiring a landscaper. Personally, I blame this on the youth of America. Don’t teenagers cut lawns anymore?
I’m not sure there are many folks out there who actually enjoy cutting their lawn, but I can say when we moved into our new house, I took great pride and joy in trying to beautify my lawn and yard. There was something very self-gratifying with trying to make my yard as nice as can be. And I must say, I did a good job getting it too look pretty spectacular, especially given the condition of it when we first moved in.
Allow me to paint you a picture. To say the previous owners took good care of the yard would be akin to saying the British have reliable intelligence capabilities. I’m pretty sure there may be some errant weapons of mass destruction somewhere in your yard. We didn’t buy the house for the yard, although its mere size (3/4 of an acre) and double-tiered level in back certainly made it attractive. However it was the perfection of the house that made it possible for me to overlook the crumbling stone wall and the four-foot wide dirt path running from the stream in the back all the way to the street out front, the product of an estuary pipe installed to prevent the basement from flooding. The tire tracks left by the previous owners move-out that destroyed the remainder of the yard still in good condition was a bonus. Needless to say, the yard needed work.
I made it my personal mission that first spring to begin cultivating the yard back to normal with my main challenge trying to grow grass on that 75-foot long dirt path. It was fun, a lot of work, but fun. By the time springtime rolled around this year, I’d fixed the stonewall and not only succeeded in growing grass on the dirt path, but had the lawn looking like Augusta National. And with most of the heavy lifting finished by June, I was looking forward to enjoying its splendor while having to nothing more than maintain the grounds. Then summer came in wetter than a rain forest and my yard went from Augusta to Amazon.
Water is of course good for a lawn, but too much can lend raise to pesky critters such as grubs that just love to eat the roots of your lawn. They did a number on mine. While I did take the proper precautions of laying down fertilizer to kill these critters, too much rain rendered it nearly ineffective. What lots of rain is good for is spawning crab grass, which near as I can tell grows at nearly ten times the rate of normal grass. I swear no sooner would I cut my lawn that I could see this stuff grow before my eyes. My lawn would go from freshly cut to jungle in less than three days. Throw in the fact that it takes a minimum of two hours to cut my lawn, a lawn with more peaks and valleys than the Berkshires, and you can see where cutting it even once a week is tough in dry conditions. But when wet, it’s a least a three-hour job. Which brings me to last Friday.
We were in the midst of a long stretch of tropical, Florida-type weather replete with hot thick muggy air and daily downpours. Realizing I wasn’t going to catch much of a break in terms of the lawn drying out at all and with sections of my lawn pushing a foot high in a mere week’s time, I fired-up my Toro. I purchased this Toro earlier this season after its predecessor, a 15-year-old hand me down Toro, quit on me back in May. If only I had the same foresight. This new mower had the all-important self-propel system that took a little bit of the burden of me. Its mulching abilities were perfect for the non-bagging method I employ in the back. However, this system mulches so well, that it has a tendency to build up wet grass on the underside resulting in the blade jamming and me needing to tip the mower on its side and scrap the grass out. With so much rain, you can imagine how frustrating this can get. It was about the 20th time of performing this ritual that I gave up, storming into the house vowing never to cut the grass again.
Actually, it was probably more like kicking and screaming like a two-year old. Still, I refuse to cut that damn lawn. Yes, it has only been five days, but I’m holding out, at least until the wife makes me cut it because I know we’re not hiring a landscaper. Personally, I blame this on the youth of America. Don’t teenagers cut lawns anymore?
