LOVE ME, LOVE ME NOT

Funny the reasons some people may like you … or not.  Recently, I had an epiphany about something as mundane as sod.  Yes, I mean sod.  You know, the green stuff which is your lawn, besides the weeds.

As Wiki defines it:  The Poaceae (English pronunciation: /poʊˈeɪ.siˌiː/) or Gramineae are the large and nearly ubiquitous family of monocotyledonous flowering plants known as grasses. The Poaceae include the cereal grasses, bamboos and the grasses of natural grassland and cultivated lawns (turf) and pasture. Grasses have stems that are hollow except at the nodes and narrow alternate leaves borne in two ranks. The lower part of each leaf encloses the stem, forming a leaf-sheath.   Leaf-sheath, leaf-sheath, leaf-sheath.  You try to say that 5 times fast.

I just know my lawn grows like crazy, beginning in mid-to-late April and I usually have to mow it by the first week in May.  This year was kinda weird, in that the grass had grown so high in the first 5 or 6 feet out from the porch, it was almost taller than Sofie, The Wonder Dog.  Sometimes, when that happens, she tends to wander over to the neighbour where the grass is shorter and use the facilities there, ‘cause she really doesn’t like it when the grass tickles her cute little pink belly.  It really doesn’t have to be very high for that to happen. 

For whatever reason, the rest of the lawn right to the driveway wasn’t growing much at all, except for those yellow-headed cheery mop heads, aka dandelions.   Dilemma time.  Should I just mow the part of the lawn that really, really needs it so Sofie would stay on our side?  Or should I mow everything even though 80% of the mowing time and effort would show zero results?

As I stand at my front door and survey my queendom, I sigh and know that I know the answer.  I have to mow.  At least the part gone wild and decide to just get it over with.  I change into my early spring lawn mowing outfit; old jeans (hmmm, they’re a little big at the waist – nice) and a ratty old Taz T-shirt, sweat-stained Mickey Mouse baseball hat and erstwhile running shoes I have kept for the very purpose of mowing.  Oh yeah and sun glasses.  I carry the lawnmower battery to the back door (it lives in the ‘Dora’ bedroom during the winter, as per the user’s manual and gets charged once a month.  The weed whacker battery is charged and ready to go too.

I tromp though the shortish grass out the back to the 3' x 8’ storage shed Management so generously provides and unlock the door.  For some reason, I always scoot back when I open the door ‘cause I kinda expect a swarm of something to come bursting out.  I consider this necessary though, ‘cause when I first inspected my storage locker after moving here, I had to knock down quite a number of small roundish mud wasp nests from the cardboard covered chicken wire, which separates my storage from my neighbours.  And, you never know what other critters may have taken refuge in there over the cold winter months.

A few things need to be rearranged to get to the lawnmower and I finally lug the thing out along with the weed whacker.  I push it mightily, making a trail in the longish grass around the locker area to the back door, where its energy source is waiting and get both batteries inserted.  I lift the yellow handle on the lawnmower and pull it up and the lawnmower starts with a reassuring roar.  I wasn’t quite sure if the battery charger was working, as the little red light is supposed to turn green when the charge is complete (it takes about 12 hours).  The little light hadn’t been turning green anymore toward the end of last summer.  I called the company which supplies new battery chargers (for $80.00 yikes!) and explained the problem and the man I spoke to said that it could just be the green bulb was burnt out.  Well, I wasn’t going to pay $80.00 for a green bulb and decided to take my chances that the charger would charge.   It appears that it is.

I chug off to the front of the house and start with the section gone mad.  It didn’t take too long to get that done and I finally decide to just leave the rest.  There really was no point in mowing something if it didn’t look like you mowed it.  Sofie was happy.

A week later I get home from a meeting and survey my (leased) land.  This time the grass is undeniably long all over and dandelions are running rampant. Sighing, I change into my lawn mowing outfit and trudge out to the storage shed, doing my little dash-backward dance when I fling the door open.  I sometimes wonder what my neighbours think when they see me doing that.

I trek to the front yard and turn on the lawnmower, which shows 2-out-of-3 green lights, meaning the charge is 2 thirds full.  I hope that’s enough to get everything done, especially the insane first 5-6 feet from the porch.  There’s just enough juice to get both front, sides and back yard done and then I weed whack. I’m pretty sweaty by the time I finish sweeping the sidewalk off but it all looks good and I love the smell of freshly mown grass.

So where is all this heading, you ask?  Well, a good friend of mine, Jae, who’s an avid gardener and the one responsible for the little garden I now have at the front of my house, called while I was out.  I called her back and she very casually asks what I plans I had for Thursday or Friday, as she had some gardening in mind.  My gardening and expanding my garden, as it turns out.  Yep, she had been busy splitting some of her mature perennials and wanted to share them with me. Here we go again. Without her sweat-equity though, and plants from her garden, I would still just have Poaceae growing right up to my porch.

Well, it turned out that I hadn’t made any plans for Thursday and it was a beautiful sunny, warm day.  My house faces south, so gardening in the morning is definitely a sweaty affair.  My friend, Jae, does most of the heavy stuff, as a wonky knee does not lend itself to pushing a shovel into the cement-like ground.  Jae seems to push it down effortlessly and gently pries a good-size piece of freshly mowed lawn, now known as sod, out the ground.  Jae casually mentions that her husband, Dave, said "hi", which makes me pause for thought, as we're not exactly friends.  I’m not sure what caused the disapproval I sense from him but I don’t spend a whole lot of time thinking about it or him, if any.   And, really, what it boils down to for me, is that I only care what people think of me, if they are important in my life.

Then Jae casually mentions, that Dave mentioned, that if there was any sod from turning more of my lawn into garden, he wouldn’t mind having it to fill in some of the bald spots around their yard, which is where all the sod from my now-garden went the first two times.  Ah ha!  The penny drops.  Dave may not like me but he loves my sod!  And I just know that every time he looks at the not-so-bald spots-anymore, he can’t help but remember where all that nice green Poaceae came from.  Put that grass in your pipe and smoke it, dahlink!

© 2016 Phyllis Mahon aka Undercover Sandycove-r - “ALL IMAGES AS COPYRIGHTED BY PHYLLIS MAHON ARE PROTECTED AND REGISTERED … IT’S UNLAWFUL TO REPOST, COPY OR PUBLISH IMAGES FROM THIS WEBSITE.”