Summer’s here, and that means mowing the grass. This activity provides much ground as well as much time for contemplation. I have come to the conclusion that grass is a good thing in animal pastures, where it gets converted into some of the best foods on the planet. You can easily argue that we all depend on grass in its many varieties for life itself. Problems start only when things get out of their place, and that statement also applies to all of life. In this case, grass outside of a pasture does not feed you: it will instead eat up the time you already didn’t have.
I feel justified in my beliefs; if you've noticed, in the Bible, grass is generally a bad deal. It doesn't last, it dries up, it withers, and so on. Trees are a much more positive thing and we should be like them. And yet, as long as this world shall last, it seems we shall have grass growing around our houses. How shall we find meaning in this? Is it an object lesson, a continual summery reminder of my fallen state?
The thing about grass that is most like my poor attitude is the way it increases when left to its own devices. You have thirty minutes to feel good about having mowed and then – behold! Grass, growing with abandon. Usually it will rain at this point, so you vacillate between feeling glad you can't mow and watching with horror as the grass reaches the windows and soon blocks out the light. The dandelions grow taller than trees, holding their heads with elegant defiance. You envision digging a tunnel through grass, like Pa Ingalls through the snow drifts, just to get to your car. You rename your homestead Tick Farm.
A sunny day arrives: you must mow the grass. My hardworking husband has no spare time, because he is earning the money. I have nothing to do with earning money, only with spending it continually, so in a great gesture of self-sacrifice I say: I can at least mow the grass! According to Dr. Jordan Peterson, voluntary self-sacrifice is a Necessary Component of Growth, Maturity and a Meaningful Existence. It is the Ground for Societal Development, the Foundation of Civilization. And not only that: it is the Upwards Aim, the Road to Adventure. Come to think of it, it is true that I have had a lot of adventures while mowing the grass.
Our lawn mower is much like a temperamental horse, a very loud one. It has a never-ending bag of tricks for getting out of its job: Flat tire. Low oil. Lost key. Bad mood. It knows exactly which point of our property is the farthest away from the shed, and that is where it will choose to run out of gas. It also drives underneath low limbs on purpose to jab out my eyes or at least leave me looking like I was in a fight with a cat. Once, we drove underneath the swing set and the mower got hung up in the swing, going higher and higher. And even in great sacrificial ventures, what goes up must come down.
Besides for the bronco, we have a push mower for those places the riding mower can't reach. The push mower is not like a horse because it hates grass. If the grass is too tall (Hello, grass. Grass: Who is too tall, Mrs. Gray?) it chokes and sputters and barfs out large clumps of green. If I were going to manufacture a lawn mower, I would test its ability to mow grass. Just a suggestion if you were considering this career. Although arguably the thing was made to mow lawns not homesteads – these two things are related in the same way as the words “suburb” and “Amazon jungle”.
At this point we return to the trees versus grass question. Trees always win so we plant lots of them. That's all well and good until it's time to mow. Suddenly what used to be a fairly straightforward job becomes an obstacle course. I have a lot of patience with fruit trees because they accomplish an important job, but at one point someone planted a bunch of evergreens in our yard. They were small and ugly and they did nothing but complicate the mowing. One day I just couldn’t – and on that day, I mowed over the evergreen trees. It was extremely satisfying, and they smelled delicious. But now I can’t complain anymore about how the push mower doesn't work.
The other thing about the regenerative homestead is that you must move your crops around each year in order to prevent pests and soil exhaustion. What was a piece of useless lawn last year, in need of mowing, might this year actually be the wheat which will sustain us through the winter. Trick question, since they look identical to my unregenerate eyes. To mow, or not to mow? Make a wild guess, and hope for the best.
There are so many more stories I could tell – for example, about what happens if you mow over a long rope hidden in the grass. Or about the sounds the mower makes when you mow over lost boots, or hammers, or baseballs. There’s also the dog poop meets mower experience. It's all very adventurous. I shall however be obligated to leave off here, as I have a lot of work to do, finding meaning and founding civilization.
PS My children do help - they mow the big parts and I do the other parts where the fun stuff happens. Sometimes we try to allow the goats to help us, but goats - well, that’s a subject for another day. Happy mowing, friends.
