Spring in the Valley

Oh spring in the Roanoke Valley. Finally warm enough to doff the jacket. Warm enough to go yard sale-ing and think about that first barbecue. Warm enough for all manner of creatures to start the inevitable B and E under my porch and weaken the foundation on my house one hole at a time. And warm enough to cut the grass that's been fed so generously by the perpetual rains of the last couple of weeks.

What I know about lawn care could fit on a blade of grass, and not in the whole quantum physics manner of speaking - I mean literally. So when the mower fails to start after the 75th yank of the cord, I naturally start taking things apart and trying to look like I know what I'm doing.

Neighbors on both sides of me are also mowing, so I have to lay it on thick: whip out the tools, unscrew some screws, check the dipstick, and mess with pretty much anything on the mower that will move.

Yes, I did check to make sure it had gas, but I guess it didn't have enough to wake up, 'cause adding more gas seemed to do the trick. Then I was off and mowing, trying to navigate the foot-high walls of grass perpetuated by our dog's respective business ends all winter.

The clippings are far too wet to actually go into the bag, evidenced by the inevitable choking every six inches or so. I take the bag off and the clippings still has nowhere to go because the inventors of the machine must have been big fans of spring-loaded mechanics: if you open any path for the grass to go, it's quickly sealed by spring-loaded plastic - presumably the response to mowers complaining about their shoes and pants turning sea green when mowing without the bag.

In the end, I have to lodge a pen beneath the spring to wedge the guard in the up position, allowing the thick muck to go somewhere besides forward or down. The end result looks something like when you cut your own hair as a child with some of those plastic safety scissors.

This weekend, I'll play the metaphorical barber and recut so as to keep the neighbors from thinking I'd let the dogs mow.