Singing While Mowing

Have you ever noticed that men and women approach chores differently? Take mowing for example. My husband gears up for mowing as if he is going into battle. He wears boots, pants and long sleeves along with goggles, a face mask and a big straw hat. He is so safety conscious that I suspect he would wear armor if he felt he needed it.

I, on the other hand, wear shorts, tennis shoes and a t-shirt. I dab a bit of eau de bug spray strategically behind my ears, knees, and on my neck, then I accessorize with a fine pair of sunglasses, MP3 player and headphones. I start the mower and then I start singing. I’m not talking about the polite hum along with a song type of singing. I’m singing in full performance mode. My arms are waving, I’m holding long, loud notes and bobbing my head in time with whatever is playing. And I’m having a great time.

Today, when I looked up, I saw my husband sitting in a lawn chair with his arms crossed and that quirked eyebrow that I love so much as he watched me mow. When I asked what his problem was, he said, “You are going to scare the new neighbors. They have small children you know.” Now let’s be real. You would need a pair of binoculars to correctly identify one of our neighbors from our yard, and I can’t possibly be singing that loud. I think he is jealous because I know the words (or at least some of the words, I’m happy to make up the ones I don’t know) to so many songs.

So I have decided to create a play list for my MP3 player of appropriate mowing songs. Here are some of the titles that I have come up with. Be sure to email me if you can think of any others.

Under My Wheels
Don’t Cross the River
Barren Ground
Spare Parts
Dirty Little Girl
All Shook Up
I got Stung
5th Gear
Jesus Take the Wheel
Go Your Own Way
Doctor My Eyes
Running On Empty
Slow Down Sister
Knee Deep in the Water Somewhere
Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?
One Way or Another
Against the Wind
Colder Weather
Whiskey’s Gone
No Hurry
Drive Like Lightning (Crash Like Thunder)
Slip Sliding Away

Running Into Fire

There are many advantages to living on a hill. There is always a breeze. Water runs downhill so you don’t have to deal with it. And you can see fire trucks approaching your house for a good mile before they get there.
Today was an interesting day. The weather was beautiful and Gene and I decided to get the mowing done. We both had our headphones on, and had Dolly in the house like good, safety conscious people should. We were about two hours into mowing when I glanced up and saw someone turning into our drive. I paused a moment, and discounted the truck as a neighboring farmer taking a shortcut to check on his hay bales. Then I noticed a long line of fire trucks with their lights on approaching our drive, slowing, and turning in. My heart stopped. I thought the fire alarms in the house had gone off and the security company had tried to reach us and called the fire department when we didn’t answer.

My first thought was to race to Gene and warn him. I knew that he could not see the drive and would be startled when a long line of fire trucks rounded the curve and came upon him mowing. And I was frantic to get to the house and get Dolly dog out. So I raced on my mower over to get his attention just as the first car rounded the corner. I pointed frantically at the car, then turned and raced the mower up the hill to the house, threw it in park and ran to save Dolly. I know you should never enter a burning building, but I was willing to take a chance in order to save Dolly the Wonder Dog. (Now I can hear some of you wondering, and no, I did not grab my computer!)

When I got into the house, no alarm, no signs of fire, but I wasn’t taking any chances, I scooped and ran. It turns out that the fire department was looking for a combine that was on fire. Gene was sitting calmly next to the drive talking with the fire fighter when I came barreling out of the house with a frantic dog. Dolly was busy doing her “someone is here” dance on the drive. Two calm men sat watching a burst of activity come flying out of the garage.

Once my heart stopped racing, I explained to Gene that I had my priorities right. Save the Bread Winner first, then Man’s Best Friend. I have spent the evening pointing out to Dolly that I was willing to run into fire to save her. She doesn’t seem too impressed.

Pick-Up Sticks

As a child, I loved the game Pick-Up Sticks. The game consisted of a can of brightly colored wooden sticks that you would shake and then dump out on a table. Sticks have to be removed from the pile without disturbing the remaining ones. The person who collects the most sticks wins. At the age of 8, I felt particularly skilled at this game and envisioned myself the envy of all others.


Now I find myself playing an entirely different kind of game called Pick-up Sticks that isn’t nearly as entertaining as it use to be. With all the wind that we have had this summer, Gene and I find ourselves regularly picking up sticks in the yard prior to mowing. Some, the small ones, are simply a nuisance. They are just big enough to make you hesitate before pretending you didn’t see them while passing over the mower. I just shrug when Gene comments that the mower blades don’t seem very sharp, and hope he doesn’t look over his shoulder while I’m mowing. Others are large enough to cause you to put the mower on idle while you climb off and move them. And then there are the big limbs that finally fall to the ground and require a two-man effort to haul to the burn pile.

I’m looking forward to cool days so that we can light the burn pile and roast some hot dogs!

Weeds are a Good Thing

I use to be a perfectionist in caring for our lawn in town. I mowed every five days and hired a lawn service to come out and spray weeds and fertilize five times a year. We have already discussed why I'm done with fertilizer (See July posting). Now I have decided that weeds are a good thing. They quickly fill in the bare areas that have developed in the August heat. They have pretty little flower that seem to pop up overnight. And clover is really, really green! When I look at the 50 gallon tank and think about filling it with weed killer, I convince myself that weeds are a good thing. The only place that I really can't tolerate weeds is in the two mile long drive (notice that the driveway is getting longer as the heat and humidity settle in?)

I'm done with Fertilizer

Last spring, we noticed that the grass in the front yard was looking a bit thin. When Gene asked what we should do about it, I told him it just needed a bit of fertilizer. I spread some out and it began to rain. Who knew it would rain 23 days in June? July isn't looking to be much better. While people living in the low areas are worrying about flooding, I'm on top of a hill trying to mow and keep the grass in line. Not only did the grass fill in, it is flourishing!

A farmer came and cut hay on the 20 some acres just south of us last night. I just pointed to our yard and signaled for him to keep on cutting. He waved and laughed, but I'm not kidding. You know it is bad when you need a GPS to find your house while you are looking over the top of the grass! I'm done with fertilizer!