Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke
Thunder delayed lawn mowing plans. Mother Nature had opinions this morning. Loud, rumbling, electrically charged opinions. Our neighborhood woke up to a thunderstorm that had absolutely no respect for my carefully scheduled lawn plans or my wife’s morning run.
Speaking of my wife: she’s had a healthy fear of thunderstorms ever since childhood, when the harrowing tale of her aunt being struck by lightning took up permanent residence in her memory. So while I was grumbling about soggy grass, she was firmly planted indoors, which, honestly, is the sensible place to be.
Now, it wasn’t my running day, but the lawn doesn’t really care about my schedule. Since our property faces a forest, we’re in a constant, low-grade negotiation with weeds. The strategy? Keep everything mowed short enough that the weeds look vaguely intentional. (It’s a lifestyle.) The thunderstorm, however, had left everything thoroughly soaked, so I made the executive decision to wait until late morning for things to dry out.
Several Hours Later
Patience paid off. By late morning the grass had dried enough to proceed, and I got the mower out. I should mention we have an electric mower, environmentally friendly, admirably quiet, and possessed of a battery life that has strong opinions about quitting halfway through the job. That’s why we tackle this in halves: not because we’re strategic, but because the battery is.
Still, I managed the half I had skipped last week, and the yard looks respectable again, no small feat considering it slopes, which turns mowing into a mild cardiovascular event. My wife handles the edging and the side beds on weekends, squeezing it into her early mornings before her busy workday. She actually enjoys it. I find both admirable and slightly baffling.
The plan: mow the remaining half on Thursday, since no dermatology appointment is on the calendar that day. The lawn, the schedule, and the battery gods willing.
Until next time, may your grass be dry and your weeds be short.