Tag: mowing the lawn

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From Heatwave to Hoodie: Yard Work Chronicles and a Deck Drama Unfolding

Written August 21, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Just last week, we were sweating through a hurricane-induced heatwave. Now? I’m out mowing the lawn in a hoodie, wondering if I should’ve brought a scarf and mittens too. The weather, in its infinite flair for drama, decided to fast-forward into fall mode without so much as a polite warning.

When I started mowing, it was cold enough to make me question all my summer life choices. But after an hour of pushing the mower like it owed me money, I finally peeled off the hoodie. Two more hours of mowing later, I was borderline ready for a popsicle. Who needs a gym membership when your yard doubles as a workout arena?

Funny thing—I remember the final week of last year roasting in 100°F while my wife and I were clearing the deck like caffeinated squirrels. Yes, skiing around the house in triple-digit weather. (Don’t ask, just know it involved leaf blowers and poor life decisions.)

This summer’s been milder. Mornings are now dipping below 60°F, and we’re bracing for more of that crisp, early autumn air. The upside? Cooler temps mean slower lawn growth. I live for those rare weeks when I can skip mowing without guilt. Earlier this summer, a cold snap bought me a guilt-free mowing sabbatical. It was glorious.

But, of course, nature’s always got backup plans. Just when the grass slows down, the trees start shedding like a stressed-out cat. Leaves everywhere. My wife was out vacuuming the lawn last weekend (yes, vacuuming—welcome to modern suburban warfare) because the tree decided it was done for the year. Between the cold and the lack of rain, it’s shedding faster than last year, and I have a sneaky suspicion it’s not done yet.

She’s been the MVP of yard maintenance lately—mowing every weekend like it’s her side hustle. I was secretly hoping things would slow down for her. She works like a machine during the week and somehow still finds time to tame the wilderness behind our house every weekend.

Oh, and let’s not forget the deck drama. Our stairs broke. Why? Because some genius (bless their heart) built the original deck using a massive tree as a support beam. Great idea—until we had to cut the tree down to avoid, you know, destroying the house foundation. Surprise! No tree, no support, no stairs.

Now we’ve got a leaning fence, a wonky path, and stairs that whisper “danger” with every step. My wife is researching stair repairs like she’s prepping for a TED Talk. She suspects we’ll need a post-hole digger to do it right, and she’s even thinking of swapping the deck boards bit by bit with PVC boards. She’s not an expert—yet—but if I know her, she will be by next weekend.

Honestly, I just hope the yard doesn’t throw us another plot twist before the week’s out.

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When Spring Forgets It’s Spring (and My Lawn Forgets Its Manners)

Written 04/08/2025

Hello, Dear Readers,

Ah, Nashville. The only place where you can sip iced tea on the porch one day and contemplate lighting the fireplace the next. This week has been a bit of a rollercoaster—weather-wise, that is. One moment we were basking in spring-like sunshine, and the next, the temperature nosedived, flirting with frostbite. On the bright side, no tornado warnings or thunderous chaos today—just a brisk chill and a confused lawn behaving like it’s late May.

Thanks to a cocktail of warm days and buckets of rain, our grass—and its less welcome cousin, the weeds—had a growth spurt. They clearly got the wrong seasonal memo. I swear, our yard is acting like it’s auditioning for The Secret Garden reboot.

Meanwhile, the birds have declared our backyard the brunch spot of the season. Robins, sparrows, maybe a few freeloading grackles—all pecking around like they’re foraging for truffles. They might be after the worms surfacing from the soggy ground or the random berries our backyard insists on producing. Whatever it is, the backyards become a feathered frenzy.

As for me, I had one noble mission today: taming the jungle. Lawn-mowing season has officially begun.

Normally, I wait until the day warms up a bit before stepping outside—especially on mornings that feel more like winter’s encore than spring’s overture. But today, I got an early start. The backlog from last week’s storms and rain had left our lawn looking more like a meadow, and I needed to catch up.

And catch up I did—until both of our large mower batteries tapped out. I was surprised by how much ground I covered and equally surprised by how much still remained. I had grand ambitions, but alas, when the batteries say they’re done, it’s nature’s way of saying, “Time for a break.”

Not too long ago, mowing this much would have wiped me out for the day. Back then, our mower was… let’s call it “modest.” My wife and I would tag-team the yard whenever time (and energy) allowed. Then came the upgrade: five years ago, we invested in a proper mower—a real game-changer. Thanks to that and my regular workouts, I now have the stamina to mow for hours without turning into a puddle of regret.

Fun fact: my wife used to mow nearly an acre of land back in Canada. With a push mower. Not electric. Not gas-powered. Just pure muscle. Every week. For four hours. Apparently, Canadian grass is better behaved and less aggressive than ours—but still, that’s some serious yard cred. She says mowing was great exercise, and oddly enough, she even enjoyed it. (Remind me to ask her again in July.)

Today, I managed to tackle about half the yard. Not bad, considering the battery drama and the early chill. If the weather behaves, I’m hoping to wrap things up on Thursday. Maybe I’ll sneak in a few strips tomorrow after my run, just to lighten the load.

Until then, the lawn can enjoy its semi-groomed half-makeover. It’s a work in progress—just like spring in Tennessee.