Mowing Grass

As a boy, I mowed my fair share of lawns.

I mowed the front yard lawn once every three weeks as a chore for the family.  I mowed the back yard once every three weeks (never the same week as the front) as a chore also.  I mowed the lawns of the frail elderly neighbors as a “request” from my dad.  I even hauled the mower around the neighborhood and mowed lawns for spending money.

Our house wasn’t the best looking one in the neighborhood, but my dad aspired to that.  He watched the neighbors as they cared for their lawns, shrubs, and yards.  He questioned them about their methods, and fertilizers, and sprays.  As a boy and young man, he mostly lived on the farms and rental places his parents occupied.  And after finally being able to buying his own house, he was driven to make it a model of what he felt a proper house should look like.  Kinda a reward I expect for all those years in places that weren’t too pretty.

He painted and tended, planted and sculpted, planned and worked, so that his property would be as good as any other on the block.  He didn’t have a chance in retrospect, but he had the desire and the drive, and he had my brothers and I.  So, my brothers and I spent hour after hour following his lead and working our chores.  I say that dad didn’t have a chance, not because he didn’t know enough, nor because he wasn’t dedicated enough, but because he had to work for a living (for himself and all of us) while the retired men whom he was competing with had all day everyday to work on their yards.

That gave them a natural (or unnatural depending on how you looked at it) advantage.

But dad watched what they did, and talked with them on how they did it, and incorporated into our weekly chores the various techniques that they employed.

I remember the day he came home after learning Mr Peck’s secret; cut the lawn two different ways.  And dad carefully explained to us boys that we would first have to cut the lawn one way side to side, then, cut it a second time at a 90 degree angle to the first cut.  That way each and every blade of grass was sure to be clipped, with none straying outside the push mowers cutting path.  We thought he was nuts.  After all, once we cut the lawn, the second pass wouldn’t be cutting anything….

And then, not too long after, he came home from work realizing that cutting the lawn at 90 degree angles meant that when people drove by on the street they would be able to see the “rows” that were set into the lawn’s growth patterns.  So from then on it was side to side on the first pass, and then at 45 degree angel on the second pass….

Now I can’t say that the way we mowed made a difference; nor can I say the time we watered did; or the any of the other specific little things he made us do.  But I can say, that later in life, every tiem I moved into a new place, and started doing those things all over again, dang if the lawn didn’t look better after a couple of months. 

Course back then, when I was a boy and would rather be climbing fences, or chasing lizards, or squashing snails…all that lawn stuff was purely a pain in the neck.

Pushmowers

Back then all that cutting was done with what was known even then (some 45 years ago) as an “old-fashioned” push mower.  One of those mowers with a long handle, two wheels, and a rotating set of helical blades that spin as the wheels are rolled forward, and free-wheels as the mower is pulled back.  Make a raspy, metallic, grinding noise they do.  Set your teeth on edge too.

Hard to push forward unless they are cleaned and oiled cause the wheels don’t want to spin.  And they jamb up wth dirt, and grass, and dust.

Hard to push cause the blades got dull or nicked, or rusty and then wouldn’t pass smoothly along the pressure/cutting bar.

Hard to push if the grass is wet and slick cause the wheels don’t want to rotate, so the cutting blades don’t rotate; and the grass blades jamb up and stop the forward motion.

Hard to push when it was hot cause the sun would expand the metal and rubber wheels and they would bind up.

Hard to push when it was cold, cause the wheel grease would cake and grab and the wheels wouldn’t spin.

Hard to push cause they were made for the cast off anchors of battleships, heavy and rust, and heavy.

Did I mention they were hard to push?

One day my brother’s and I banded together and went to see our father about how hard they were to push.  We recounted all of the difficulties getting them to work right, to keep them cleaned and oiled, and greased and sharp.  We told him that he should let us use the gas powered lawn mower that was sitting on the shelf in the garage; that we could get the job done better with gas mower.

He just said: “Nope, you boys aren’t old enough to use that gas mower yet, you just keep on using the push mower”.

The moon came and went and the earth chased around the sun, once, twice, three, maybe even four times.  All the while my brothers and I shoved and pushed that cantankerous old mower. 

We learned to wash it and dry it after every use, and oil it too.  We learned how to grease the wheels, and store it undercover.  We learned to file it sharp, and adjust the tension, and countless other things to make the mower operate smoother, to make it somewhat easier to push.

Finally one day we realized that we were older, that must mean we could use the gas mower.  So we banded together and went to our dad.  We made our case, we were older, and more careful, and could be counted on to use the gas mower right.  We smiled cause we knew that we would be out racing across the lawn with that gas mower roaring the grass into short even-cut perfection.

But dad just said “You boys are big and strong now, you can easily push that mower, there’s no need to waste the money on gas for the other one”.

I’ve always rather suspected he had some ulterior motives there.  Don’t think he cared wit one about how easy or hard it was, figure he was more concerned about the things we learned.

“A Job done right”

My dad was fond of saying “A Job Done Right, Need Never Be Done Again”.

And he used to often (and not without provocation I must admit) say “Are you listening to me boy?”

And that was all well and good, but heaven help if you actually did pay attention. 

One day after carefully cutting the front lawn; two ways, one at a 45 degree angle; and edging by hand the walkway and sidewalk; and crawling on hands and knees to weed the dandelions, and fertilizing, and watering, and raking, and sweeping; just as I was finishing up, my dad drove in the driveway from work. 

He got out of the car, looked over the job that I had done and promptly said; “Boy, you did that up right.”

Yep, that was the day I found out my dad didn’t have a sense of humor, cause I immediately replied; “Does that mean I don’t ever have to do it again?”

And he thought I didn’t listen.

Copyright © 2011 - Marty Vandermolen - All Rights Reserved