Trudging around my yard a few days ago, pushing a heavy, noisy machine back and forth (and back and forth) for the first time in 2014, I couldn’t help thinking to myself how glad I was winter is finally over…not that it isn’t holding on for dear life mind you. Spring Break in the mountains of West Virginia with my family included sideways snow.
This, of course, isn’t the first time winter has held on so long. I remember one Spring at Marshall (in the late 80s) where we were playing in the sun at Ritter Park on Sunday and then got several inches of snow on Tuesday. I was sunburned and shivering as I walked to class.
Still, the trees are budding, the grass is growing (if unevenly) and birds are chasing each other through the trees. My snow shovel is still out next to the front steps and I think I can realistically put it back in the garage now.
Some people are fanatical about their yards; applying fertilizers and mowing, pruning, blowing and trimming daily. That’s great if that’s what you’re into. It’s just not me. I’m sure I’m a disappointment to a couple of my neighbors. They seem to tolerate me though, only looking at me with pity when they think my back is turned.
Mowing the grass is a sort of meditation for me. I can zone out and spend an hour or so outside. My phone stays in the house and I don’t worry about calls or emails. Those times are increasingly rare so I take advantage of them whenever I can. All too soon, everyone will be complaining about the heat and the humidity and staying inside in the air conditioning. Not me. As a writer, I spend too much time connected to my computer writing about life (it begins to feel like I’m jacked directly into it) and not enough time out actually experiencing it.
If I can’t get outside and get some action, I think I’ll start up my lawnmower and get some “quiet time”. Maybe my neighbors who spend all their time working on their yards know something I don’t….