Making Hay ...

I mowed the lawn. On Tuesday. I made a date on my calendar for this big event. And I actually accomplished this feat. I sound pathetic. And I'm not kidding -- if anyone in the area wants to come and rake it -- then bale it -- come on over. It was that high.

I have lost sleep over this. My son did a power mow, barely beating the rain, the day before he left for college. I frantically begged him to finish. He didn't quite finish. I knew it would fall to me and boy did I put it off as long as I could. I had good cause! It has rained just about every day! It's been in the 90's. I don't go outside when it's that hot. I'm busy! Bottom line is I don't want to do this. It's is overwhelming to me and I know that sounds stupid, but it's true. Sometimes the simplest things are too much for us during trying times.

After David was first diagnosed back in 1996, I took over the mowing. At the time, we were in a smaller house with a much smaller yard. I think it took an hour to push-mow the yard. When we moved HERE, since I had already crossed that boundary of the grass cutting (I should have better listened to a friend about this one) I was doing all of the mowing. THIS yard takes at least 4 hours to mow on a riding mower. This is a big yard. I took great care and great pride in doing a good job. I can't remember why or when, exactly, I stopped doing the mowing, but it was quite a long time ago. We've been here for ten years and I can't remember the last time I did this. Perhaps following a knock-down/drag-out about the housework, bills, cooking, dishes, cleaning, etc. David started to handle the mowing. Victory? I had to remind myself over and over again that ALL mowing is GOOD mowing. Uh-huh.

The Pisces vs. Virgo quandary ensued. I used to stand at the kitchen window -- right above the sink and watch -- in awe and dismay -- David mow the lawn. Now in my mind, there's pretty much a right way and a wrong way. In this case, counter-clockwise is the right way! In David's case, it is a two-fold issue: 1) You don't have to mow over the clippings that have been thrown to the side because they're thrown onto what has already been mowed; and 2) When you've lost 100% of your peripheral vision to the left, it makes sense to mow in a direction where you can line-up your tire on the right! He did not mow in the counter-clockwise direction. In fact, when David mowed, the result was more along the lines of CROP CIRCLES. Imagine taking an invisible key and locking your lips closed. That's what I did -- because it was more important to NOT mow than to have perfect mowing. Okay -- not even close to perfect. Ideally, after a couple times, the missed spots would eventually get mowed so it was all good.

Enter teenagers! What teenager doesn't want to get on a tractor before they start to drive and zip around on it? MY SON. Daughter was a good mower! She was careful and didn't get all upset when she was asked to mow. She just did it. Easy peasy. :-) With son, it was sometimes like getting the book report written. A huge task. Lots of encouragement -- and some begging. Then guilt. What mother in her right mind would feel guilty that her teenaged son was mowing the freaking grass!? This mother. Oy. But it got a little easier as the years passed ...

Enter Leslie. Remember, I made a calendar entry to mow. I researched things first. What was the weather? When would it be raining? Okay -- Saturday LATE afternoon -- can't mow on Saturday. Besides, it will be in the upper 80's -- ludicrous for September! Nope. Sunday -- well, that's the day of rest. Monday. Well, you work on Monday AND it's going to be really hot and humid. This girl does not invite suffering into her life at this juncture! Tuesday! Tuesday! High in the 70's -- clear skies -- low humidity -- day off. I'll mow on Tuesday. And mow I did!!

It took me an hour and half to get out there! No alarm, so I slept-in, as I enjoy doing. Why not!? Then I had to make my morning smoothie, had to check facebook and email -- had to have a little iced coffee -- (but I didn't do the dishes) -- located some ear plugs, found my floppy safari hat and bummed daughter's garden gloves to protect my tender hands, trekked all the way across my big yard to the shed and got that dang thing going. Our mower has been repaired -- and repaired again. And it's still not quite right. Some linkage thing isn't working well. The John Deere guy jury-rigged the mower gear. What?! Okay, so hold the mower gear handle down with your elbow while you engage the choke and starter and whatever! I got it started.

Mowing is good exercise! As much as I make fun of David's crop circles, I somehow manage to mow in the form of amobeas. Our mower does not turn on a dime! so when you "turn the corner," it really becomes a curve. After a few rounds, it becomes a lovely, pleasing polygon without corners (what's that called??). Enter the exercise factor. Remember the old TV ad for the exerciser ... "We must. We must. We must increase our bust." That's it! You get tooling around those amoeba curves and it's a real work-out with the steering wheel. Also, the entire time, I'm engaging my powerhouse. (That's Pilates talk meant to impress you.) AND the bouncing around at top speed (unless you're in the deep stuff) is NOT unlike those old motorized exercise belts that you slung under your behind and it was supposed to shake-off the fat. We must. We must. Engage your powerhouse. Shake off the fat! I don't have to do Yoga tonight! I mowed a bit. Then I ran out of gas.

Turn off mind. Do not turn on Grey's Anatomy. Go to General Store. Get gas. Return home. Make salad for lunch. Skype with daughter. Go freaking mow. And I did. The grass in the lower 40 was over 24" high (okay, lower 1 -- a tip of my floppy hat to Dad). Boy-o-mine, when was the last time you mowed back there!? I saw lots of grasshoppers and other creatures exposed by the destruction of their shelter -- and patiently chased an Eastern Garter off into the deeper grass (I have had enough of mowing garter snakes!). I uncovered a few big rocks that had spray-painted with blaze orange YEARS ago so as not to scrape the blades over them (yes, I know ... I won't apologize for this). And after about 4 and a half hours, I was finished. I was cheerful. I felt accomplished! I hope I don't have to do that again very soon, though.

So what was the big deal?! It's another turning point. Another marking of a return to some sort of normal life. I can't play the widow card forever. Oh, poor old me -- I'm a widow so my yard is a mess. Well, I can if I want; I mean, it's not that I ever WANTED to -- I just haven't cared that much about "things," like clean floors, a dust-free bedroom and a groomed yard. I'm starting to care again and THAT is the point. Off and on over the last two years, I've been discouraged over my lack of interest in things that I used to really care about and enjoy. Yes, I gave myself a break (I'm good at that), but I understood that life was literally sweeping past while I was existing in a state of slow motion.

I remember my sister telling me about a day she had not too long after my brother-in-law died. She was standing in the middle of a grocery store -- watching all the happy, care-free people around her just shopping for their groceries. And inside she was screaming: My husband died and life isn't easy or happy but you have no idea when you walk past me, either smiling or refusing to make eye contact, that this tragic thing has happened to me. Everyone else was simply grocery shopping. She was using every bit of mental and emotional energy she had to GET to the grocery store. That's what I'm talking about. Now, seven years later, she infrequently experiences those paralyzing moments -- those surreal out-of-body events. It's sort of a variation on the theme of "magical thinking," as journalled in a book by Joan Didion. The book resonated with me, so I shared it with her.

So ... making hay. A positive thing out of a negative thing, like making lemonade out of lemons. Mowing 24" grass was hard on the mower and left big clumps all over the yard, but it is a victory! I did it. It didn't kill me. It was an accomplishment. It was a turning point. No crop circles, though I did think of David joyfully spinning around out there when I was mowing. I allowed myself to indulge in a beer -- or two (tipsy mowing? not ... ) so that took the edge off of the tedium -- and I had ample time to think about how I was going to share this with you; why it felt so important to me. A no-legged man runs the 400m in the Olympics! Widow manages to mow her entire yard! At least I can laugh WITH myself over these accomplishments and recognize them for what they are -- steps toward a healing heart; acceptance of a new life; making life-giving hay out of weeds. And we mustn't forget the health benefits: firmer bust, stronger core and fat-fighting! Kudos to me!