Mornings Like This


I worked hard at my job yesterday, then came home and started the lawnmower. It was high time to start mowing. We’ve had a rainy spring. I was unable to mow before I left; when I got back from my trip to the mainland, the grass had grown to obscene heights.

We are in the thick of mosquito season here on Beaver Island. An unkempt lawn just acts as encouragement for them to hang around. Also, the vegetable garden is taking shape, the spring perennials are blooming, and the cherry trees are blossoming wildly. It’s hard for me to appreciate any of that when surrounded by an overgrown lawn.

I’ve been home since Tuesday afternoon, and mowing has been on my priority list. Wednesday, though, was for spending time with the dogs, unpacking, and laundry. I had dinner with my cousin, then called it a night. Thursday after work and walks with the dogs, I pulled the mower out of the shed, but didn’t start it. Too tired. Friday, the same. Yesterday, I couldn’t stand it any longer. Immediately on getting home, I put my lunch bag, purse and mail inside, donned my straw hat and mosquito net, and headed out.

The first step is to pace the yard, gather up the toys my big dog leaves outside, and remove any windfall. I checked the oil, put in fresh gas, and – without too many failed tries – started the mower. It’s a small push mower, not self-propelled, so the “push” really means it.

“Grass” is a term I use loosely. My lawn is actually a mowed field. When it goes without being mowed, it’s true nature comes out. There are huge swaths of quack grass that grow taller than everything else, in clumps that threaten to choke the mower at every pass. There are wide areas of field grass that bend rather than break. It takes three or four passes to get them down. Blackberry brambles, milkweed and other tough characters are plentiful enough to present a challenge.

An hour of mowing brought me to six-thirty, and exhaustion. Less than I hoped to get done, but enough for one day. A quick walk with the dogs, then dinnertime. By the time I fed the dogs, prepared my own simple meal, ate, cleaned up from dinner, and showered, it was ten o’clock and I was ready for sleep. With one job barely started and a half-dozen others that I hadn’t even addressed. Ugh!

This morning, I woke up early, without the alarm. I made a cup of herbal tea. That gives me the option of laying back down. If I brew coffee, I’m committed to being up for the whole day. As the sun is just barely brightening the landscape, the discouragement I felt at the end of yesterday is gone. I feel rested, and energized, and ready to give it another go. I love mornings like this!


About cindyricksgers

I am an artist. I live on an island in northern Lake Michigan, USA. I have two grown daughters, four strong, smart and handsome grandsons and one beautiful, intelligent and charming granddaughter. I live with two spoiled dogs. I love walking in the woods around my home, reading, writing and playing in my studio.

3 responses »

  1. Mmm, that sounds like the perfect morning to me.
    Your lawn sounds like a wild and lovely thing, even if it is unkempt and full of non lawny things πŸ™‚ Mine is getting there and while I like it short and mowed too, I always respect and admire it when it gets all crazy and out of control!

    • I did a lot of swearing at my wild and crazy lawn while struggling to push the mower through it! I have acres of woods and wild field all around me, and if it weren’t for the mosquitoes, I might consider a wild lawn. It’s nice, though, watching the robins come to feed on the freshly mowed space.

      • Ooooh, my heart is singing at your description. Why do the bugs always have to wreck things! πŸ™‚
        I like to watch the birds too. They do seem to appreciate a mowed space.

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