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A Great Day For A Mow

I stretch beneath the covers, my arms rising in the air. Sitting up in bed, I squint as the sun strikes across my face. The extra Saturday morning sleep has me energized. I smile and think, “It’s a great day for a mow.”

After a cup of coffee and a glance at the daily newspaper, I enter the garage, pull the mower out, top off the gas tank. Then I’m off.

There is something about a neatly cut lawn of green grass. The exact pattern of the mower back and forth in the morning brightness hints of the look of a great major league baseball park. A coifed edging of flower beds and the driveway add to the manicured effect. I love to mow.

I’m not sure what it is . . . Is it the fresh smell of the cut grass? Maybe it is the pride I feel in its appearance? Maybe it is comparing it to the neighbors’ and realizing my yard looks just a little bit better? Maybe it is the memory of childhood days playing and rolling around on a cool lawn in the late afternoon?

One thing is certain: a well-groomed yard is a beautiful thing.

As a boy, I remember watching my dad pull his push mower from the shed. He would take a rag and wipe the body and engine clean of dust. The red paint still held a shine like when it was brand new. He always, with rag in hand, reached to unscrew the cap to check the oil. Pulling out the oil stick, he would hold it into the daylight making sure the oil was at the right level. Using the rag, he wiped the excess and returned the stick. He sharpened the blade once a year. The mower’s air filter was cleaned regularly.

It was a momentous occasion as he reached to start the mower. He would pull the starting cord, and in one fluid motion, the motor started the first time, every time. It ran smoothly like any machine given loving attention.

I have been mowing grass since I was a boy. My first paying job when I was ten years old was mowing my aunt’s and uncle’s yard. Some yards I mowed using the client’s mower. Other times, I would pull my dad’s mower behind my bicycle from yard to yard. In those days there was no such thing as a gas powered edger. I used hand clippers and a manual edging device that looked more like a spiked weapon used in hand-to-hand combat by warriors from the Middle Ages than a tool used to groom the yard.

I didn’t make a lot of money, but add in the change I collected from redeeming soda bottles collected along the sides of country roads and I had enough cash to buy the important things – comic books, Hot Wheels cars, Coca Cola and ice cream sandwiches. So, what is it about me and mowing?

I have learned that sometimes there is deep meaning in the simplest of things – like cutting the lawn.

These things may seem trivial to some people, but to others they encapsulate life’s lessons. Mowing is a great teacher.

I learned early the value of doing something well as I watched my dad care for his yard. He taught me through his actions if you are going to do something, do it right – he never did anything half way. I learned that you should do something so well that you are able to take pride in the job done.

I learned that you should always do a job right for yourself first. It feels good at the close of the day knowing you have done something really well.

I learned the value of doing a great job and being compensated for the great job you perform – an honest day’s work yields meaningful satisfaction. And I learned that after you have worked hard, it is okay to enjoy the fruits of your labors.

It may be mowing the grass for some, but for me it is a reminder of good lessons learned.

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