Lawn Mower Comes Down with the Flu

I love this time of year! Warm weather. Shorts and flip-flops. Pools opening. Leaves finally returning to the trees. Flowers blooming. Grass growing...

Well, you can nix that last one for one simple reason -- lawn mowing season! Anyone that knows me knows that I am not a yard maintenance kind of guy.

"I hope your mower works," my wife said helpfully as I went to break out my lawn mower for the season.  "You know, you never got it winterized. And I don't know if you ever covered it properly for the winter."

The ailing, evil grass cutting machine.

I love my wife, but she says the silliest things! I walked with confidence to where I stored my lawn mower for the winter. Somehow, the cover had come off the self-induced torture device.

I pulled it out anyway. I brushed it off. I checked the oil. Check. I eyeballed the gas tank. Hmm. I topped it off. Check. Concluding my mechanical knowledge, I cranked it on up. Perfect.

And then it cut off. Hmm. Maybe I should have winterized it. I jiggled it to mix the old gas with the new gas. I cranked it up. Perfect. And then it cut off again!

I told my wife I was heading to the gas station to get some orange juice for the mower. "It has the flu, honey," I said, explaining that I was really getting fresh gas.

"Check the filter before you do anything else," she replied. There she goes acting like she knows machines again! Silly!

I decided to humor her and checked the filter. It was a little gummed up. Only a little, though. I cleaned it out and started the infernal machine.

Strange. It actually ran a little better. I managed to mow a majority of the yard with it cutting off in three to five minute intervals.

I managed to cut the grass, as well as the cursing and curses to a minimum as the mower's brief running intervals hummed happily longer. And then, it reached the end of its rope, so to speak.

I was planning to get a white candle to light on the mower while I perform a healing dance. My wife, however, suggested a lawn mower mechanic.

She's been lucky so far. I may just follow her advice.

Late Start to National Poetry Month

I've gotten a bit of a late start this year, but better late than never, as I'm fond of saying.

"What is this month," I asked my kids, knowing full well that it's April, and April is National Poetry Month. Judging by their answers, they remain blissfully unaware of this fact.

Spring, autumn, April, March, May, "a new month" and "a month of the year," were the answers I received. My responses to crazy answers have improved. I now raise one eyebrow, and sometimes say, "really," with just a slight inflection of incredulity.

Regardless, we started out with a bang. We cranked out acrostics about spring. Here's the best.

Sunny

Pretty rainbow colors

Really fun

Ideas grow like flowers

Naturally fresh air

Good to be outside with friends

We immediately jumped into some cinquains. While some kind of get it, others don't. That's okay since we pulled out a couple of nice ones and managed to have fun in the process.

Cheetahs

Fast, dangerous

Hunting down prey

Providing food for babies

Cats

I only have three cinquains posted on the wall, currently. I particularly liked this one.

Hopefully, I'll be posting more poems, literally, at Mr. Haworth's poetry corner at school, as well here for your reading pleasure.

Lawn Maintenance Equals Character Building?

Ahhh... Spring time! With it comes the flowers, fishing and swimming. Also, along with it comes grass growing and lawn maintenance, and I don't mention that fondly.

When I was growing up, I had to mow the vertical drop that was my father's back yard. I simply didn't feel safe mowing it without three belay lines safely anchoring me, the lawn mower and the tank of spare gas. There were moments when my equipment and I would dangle over empty space, just hoping to touch a tuft of grass with a wildly spinning mower blade.

While mowing that back yard, I lived in fear of my sisters. They liked to pull pranks on me. I was afraid one of their pranks would cause my life line to be accidentally cut, thus send me plummeting to my death in the creek far below.

It took everything I had to haul myself and my equipment up the vertical drop. My muscles trembled and spasmed from the strain, fatigue and fear involved. I would have the mower nearly docked safely in the garage when my father's voice finally reached my young ears.

"Phillip," my father said in a questioning tone I knew so well. "You missed a couple of spots back there. You know, I can't pay you until the job has been satisfactorily completed. Now, if you would simply mow in straight lines, you could line up the mower wheels with..."

I heard the beginning of that speech many times. The fresh surge of fear it created sent my muscles trembling and spasming afresh, and I don't think I ever heard it in its entirety.

But now I'm the father. Now I get to dispense my years of wisdom upon my son.

Sadly enough, I don't have a vertical drop for a back yard in which to build my son's physical strength or strength of character. My back yard also lacks the mutant spiders that are able to weave webs that span between trees more than 20 feet apart. Nor do I have the underground bee nest which had to be carefully observed and mowed around. I also don't require my son to empty the grass bag at a site no less than a half mile away. Shoot! I have a bagless mower!

Luckily for my son, I promised myself that I would be a cool dad. I would be the kind of dad that would not nag, but give him practical advice in such a way that he could associate with and appreciate. My motto would be: as long as the job gets done, that's all that matters.

I got my chance to practice my hip, youthful approach to mowing as I observed him with the lawnmower today.

"Hey buddy," I said in a careful, youthful tone. "You missed a couple of spots back there. You know, I can't pay you until the job has been satisfactorily completed. Now, if you would simply mow in straight lines, you could line up the mower wheels with..."