Mow better blues

Mowing the lower meadow is, first, a logistical problem: find the tractor key, find the right gas can for diesel fuel, get the fuel, fill up the tractor--finally on the way!

Next it becomes a geometry problem: what's the most efficient way to mow an irregular shape without leaving behind those annoying little wedges? Finish the small end first or keep circling the entire perimeter?

At one point it's a power problem: the meadow looks fairly flat, but the mower lets us know just how much the ground falls off over in the back corner, where the ground stays moist and the grass grows thick and tall. Mowing uphill through thick grass while making a sharp turn to the right--the tractor bogs down and stalls, and then I'm rolling backward toward the creek. Where did you say the brakes are on this thing?

But mostly mowing the lower meadow is a getting-away-from-your-problems problem. It's almost mindless: follow the lines around and around, swinging the occasional loop to cut the corners, and then follow the lines again. Scare up a field mouse or two and watch the birds lingering amidst the cuttings, but otherwise, just follow the track already laid down and keep on mowing.

I'm not a terrific mower--my son does a neater job and my husband a swifter one, but at the moment, I'm available, so off I mow, putting my mind in neutral and the tractor in gear. After I've shaved down that last thin wedge of tall grass, I survey the interlocking rings, stripes, and wedges I've left behind, evidence of an afternoon's labor. In my line of work, it's not often that I can point to something tangible and say "I did that," but mowing the meadow offers clear evidence that I've left some sort of mark on the world.

Until the rain starts again.