Wednesday, July 19, 2017

The lawn and short of it.

I've often wondered if our culture is ever going to break free of the tyranny of the young, with songs and movies and TV shows and whatnot directed to people between the ages of 10 and 25. I was particularly thinking about this while mowing the lawn and listening to music, because so many of the songs I've collected digitally are from my youth, and are almost unseemly for a man over the age of 35.

Yeah, it was a tough mow. In the last week we've had more and more rain. No fooling -- I've never seen a mushroom cap the size of a baseball on the lawn, until now.

Fungus amongus.
That rust on the tree I was worried about last week? Reader G. (I can't divulge his name, which is Garry) gave me the tip that it's fungus. Thank you, Mr. G! I probably should have guessed. There's mold everywhere else. If the dogs loaf too long on the lawn they start turning green.

By the time I was able to get at that grass it was long and damp -- almost too much for my electric mower to handle. As I noted before, it's a keen machine but if the blade gets overloaded, the computer chip goes into overload and the whole thing shuts down. Then you have to wait, and wait, and wait for the thing to calm down and get over it before it will green-light you again.

So this took some time. Plus it was a hot, swampy day. There's a slope in the backyard, which means the very last part of the job finds the dampest, thickest grass, which means that just when I was a-fixin' to plotz the most, the mower conked out most often.

Stupid turf.
I ought to mention that I am blessed with a good bit of lawn, but too much for my little normal-size push mower. My neighbors tend to have riding mowers, or more commonly they get the grass cut by a service like the Home Depot Parking Lot Caballeros. I suspect I'm the neighborhood idiot, but it wouldn't be the first time. Well, mo lawn, mo problems.

What I did ultimately was take the string trimmer out, and every time the mower died and I had to wait out its hissy fit, I weed-whacked the remaining grass. This way when I finally could cut the grass it would be shorter, and at that rate maybe drier. When I got done at last I was glad to be alive. If this lawn mowing job didn't kill me, no lawn mowing job can. Hey, look out, Highlander! There Can Be Only One.

So what does all this have to do with music? We'll find out tomorrow, maybe. Stay tuned....
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