They say that trying new things keeps you young. Last weekend I tried something I don’t remember doing even as a wild teenager.
John’s back is out. He can’t even turn over in bed when he’s sleeping without moaning in pain. He did something wrong while working out. Isn’t exercise supposed to be good for you?
That’s why on Sunday, I mowed the lawn.
Johnny mowed it while we were in Milan. When we got home, he told us our lawn mower was “terrifying.” He kept waiting for the blade to come flying off. We were going to replace it last summer, but just never got around to it. Besides, with two kids in college, it fell into the keeping expenses down category.
We bit the bullet and went to buy a new mower. We haven’t had good luck with mowers. The last two were horrible: a Sears Craftsmen and a Scotts mower. Consumer Reports lied about those two. Standing next to their mower ratings in Home Depot, we hoped they’d be accurate this time.
When Johnny told us about the terrifying mower, he told us to get a Honda for our next one. John studied the features. A salesman came by and stopped to help us. He really knew his stuff. While he had one of the mowers flipped over to show us the twin cutting blades, some old duffer came by and offered his two cents, “It’s the finest lawn mower they can make in China.” Then he burst into laughter. Why do so many old guys think that being rude is the same as being funny? We ignored him.
When the salesman told us that a man had come in the other day and said his Honda mower was still running after 30 years, John was sold.
We loaded it into his pickup and took it home. John took it out for a spin, and said it was so much better than his old mower he couldn’t believe it. He really liked that the motor could be running while the blade wasn’t turning. He couldn’t wait for Johnny to get home from WSU to show him.
Now for some background, for those of you who don’t live in the Pacific Northwest. For the rest of the country, the timing of mowing is no big deal. You mow the grass on the weekend, when it’s convenient and fits into your schedule.
Here, it’s more complicated. You have to wait until it’s not raining, which has been a rarity this spring. The flipside of the rain problem is that the more it rains, the faster the grass grows, and the more saturated your yard gets. As soon as the sun comes out here, you can hear lawn mowers cranking up throughout the neighborhood.
It had been a couple of rainy weeks, and the grass was getting high when John’s back went out. Johnny is still over in Pullman, so I told John I’d mow the yard. He scoffed, which made him wince from the stabbing pain in his back.
Now, you may ask why I have never mowed before. Aren’t I a liberated woman? Why yes, I am. I pump my own gas. I made sure my daughter played sports growing up. I even vote!
The reason I have never mowed is because I’m a delicate flower. I have severe allergies. I tested off the charts. I’m allergic to trees, weeds, ferns, cats, dogs, dust mites, and most of all, grass. I took allergy shots for years. I carry antihistamines in my purse at all times, in case I ever start to go into anaphylactic shock.
So last Sunday, I took an antihistamine. Twenty minutes later, I suited up: jeans, long sleeved shirt, hair tucked under a hat, sunglasses, bandanna over my face. John tried to make me wear ear protection too, but I refused. I’d reached my protection limit.
I had asked John if I could use the old-style, push mower. He said the grass had gotten too long. I had to use the new gas mower. I pushed the new gassed up mower up the driveway while waving him off. He wasn’t used to me “driving” his mower. Old habits die hard.
Then we stood in the yard as he gave me a lawn mower lesson about throttles, speed, the drive clutch, engaging the blade, mulching, not mulching, bagging, or not bagging. He stood on top of one of the sprinklers, hidden in the high grass warning me not to hit it. He was more nervous than when he taught the kids how to drive.
Finally, I got to pull the cord. The engine sprang to life, sputtered, and then died when I pushed the shift lever toward the handlebar. A few more tries, and I was off. So was the lawn mower.
I hammed it up and acted like the mower was going way too fast for me, my tennis shoes flying up behind me as I ran for my life.
John yelled, “Let go of the handle! Let go! Let go!”
I found this hysterically funny. I let go of the drive clutch lever, opting to push the mower myself instead of letting it pull me along. Our house is built into a hill, so the self-propelled feature will be great for the guys who won’t let it get away from them.
John supervised me pointing out patches that I missed. He overlooked the places I buzzed. I was flinchy about getting too close to the sidewalk. I didn’t want to be the first one to run the blade into cement.
The whole job didn’t take long. Our front yard is small. I think the instructions took longer than the actual mowing.
What was interesting about this new experience was the crowd that my lawn mower performance drew. Before the mower even started, during the instructions, one of our neighbors suddenly had to come out and hover in her driveway. A friend of hers pulled up in his pickup and felt compelled to honk. Then they both stood there observing intently.
After I wheeled the mower back down the driveway, we noticed our other neighbor lurking in the bushes between our houses watching while we hosed the lawn mower down.
They are so weird! Haven’t they ever seen a masked woman mow the lawn while her husband directs her? Take a picture, it lasts longer (plus you can post it on Facebook)!
Laura Keolanui Stark will not be starting a landscape service anytime soon. She can be reached at stark.laura.k @gmail.com.
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