Yesterday I mowed the back yard. It took me a couple of hours, and my back yard isn’t that big. The yard first needed to be mowed about 2 weeks ago, but since then the weather has only cooperated long enough for me to get the front yard cut. In much of the back yard, the grass was 8 inches or longer, and thick, thick, thick. Mowing it was quite the slog.
I like mowing. My sister and I mowed the big church yard of the church my dad pastored when I was in junior high and high school, and I learned then that mowing is great for thinking. Maybe too great for thinking. My sister loves to tell the story (or is it stories?) of me absentmindedly mowing over the hose and destroying it. I don’t remember much about it, but of course, she remembers it perfectly. Sisters are like that.
That sort of thing might run in the family, by the way. One of my children—I won’t say exactly which one—tried to mow over a six by six by four inch clump of aluminum. Of course, in that case, it wasn’t the clump of aluminum that was destroyed.
I also received an email yesterday from a regular reader who lives in New York. She is here in Whitehorse so her husband can take part in the Yukon River Quest. We may get together for coffee if we can work it out, and if we do, it will be the first time I’ve met someone in real life that I first met through blogging.