Zen and the art of mowing

I got into a mode today.
Right around 12:45 pm the mood/guilt struck me that the lawn needed some love I hadn't been giving it for a long time.

So I began to mow. And mow. And mow and mow and freaking mow, I think technically I own an acreage here. Well, nearly.

I mowed the back yard and took a sit down, get my breath back break.

Then I mowed the side yard and took a sit down, get my water back up break.

Then I mowed the front yard, and yada yada yada, the sucker was done.

Then I wippersnipped (is that how you spell it?) the life out of 30 million weeds around the edge of the yard. I even did along the back ally.

By then I took a break and sprayed half the edge around the house in the ongoing battle with ant's which I am winning by the way.

Then I did some trimming of trees that are not Elms as trimming Elm trees is illegal here during the summer. I even reached deeply into no man's land by our neighbours to help "trim" a couple of their weed trees. That's better.

And finally I washed off the muddy patio and the pergola, and promptly filled my big rubber boots with ice cold water to try and cool off my aching blistering feet.

As much as I hate, no pardon me, HATE yard work, there is something deeply satisfying in it. And it give you plenty of time to think and pray and pose deep life questions to yourself, like "I wonder if when my son-in-law-to-be comes to visit whether he with his landscaping degree will love to cut my lawn?"

Course, it could have been the heat and sun beating down on me that made me so delirious.

I finished up around 5:15 pm, and my back hasn't been the same since.


Feels like G&T time.