The front lawn has recovered from the mower mishap. I gave the mowing company that killed my grass a second chance. I took the photo above the day after they mowed the second time. They did better this time, and I will have them continue as my lawn service.
It’s mid-August. The day is done. I’m taking a moment to admire the sun setting behind the cornfield. I wonder, “Where has the summer gone?”
School will start soon. The leaves will change colors, and they will fall. The holidays will come, and so will the snow.
I sat here on this mid-August evening and realized, “I’m not ready for summer to go.”
I was looking to see what the trail cam caught and came across this photo. “Hmmm, that’s a tall raccoon,” I thought to myself. I went out and measured that twig on the peach tree; it’s four feet tall.
S/he couldn’t reach the peach. Plan B, climb the tree.
He had just started to mow the ditch.
From inside the house, I could see plumes of dust rise. I walked outside to see that he was cutting the grass off at ground level. “I’ve got to put a stop to this,” I thought to myself.
I stood there a moment at the edge of the driveway. He noticed me and drove his zero turn up beside me. “If you could just do the ditches, I’ll pay you your full amount because you showed up. The rest of the lawn is fine.” He went back to mowing. I went back into the house.
A few moments later, I heard him mowing in the side yard and then in the front yard. I went back outside. His wife was sitting on the fender of their trailer. I asked her, “Please tell him not to do the backyard. It’s already short enough.” I backed away. She flagged him down, and she relayed the message.
When he finished the front yard, I asked him, “If you ever mow the back, please blow the grass clippings away from the garden. It helps to keep the weed seeds out and cuts down on having to pull weeds.”
He rolled his eyes and laughed at me.
I don’t mind doing the backyard if it means not having to pull weeds in the garden, I thought to myself.
I am worried about my dead front lawn. The 127-yard sale is this weekend. In years past, I have always left my lawn tall for the sale. It helps the grass come back from the extra foot traffic. This year, there’s a chance for rain. If we get rain, my front yard will be a sloppy, muddy mess. I don’t even know if my lawn will be able to come back enough to survive the winter.
It looks like I will probably need to reseed it in the spring.
“Reagan was your Grandmother’s fault,” my mother yelled at me. That’s how I learned that one vote matters. I remember I was in the third grade 1984-5 school year.
Today is election day.
Peaches are a few days from ripe.
Right on schedule, the wild animals have helped themselves.
Welcome to my little corner of the world.
I live a simple life, in lower Michigan, on my mini farm.
Rambling of Type 