Dammit. It is that time again.
You know that time. You dread it, and no matter how much you try to put it off, you know it is gonna happen.
You talk to family. You ask friends advice. You even talk to the experts when you gt a chance, but they only look at you with sad eyes, pat you on the shoulder, and express remorse that in the scheme of things, all men must deal with it.
No, not the death of a loved one.
Not even the loss of a job, or the closing of your favorite mom and pop hardware store.
Those things cause a sudden flash of grief, and I think on some level we are more wired to handle a ton of grief, rather than the long drawn out dread and realization that no matter how smart we have becoe, no matter how hard we work, how often we pray, that in the grand scheme of things, we are as helpless to stop it as a dandelion seed drifting on a warm spring breeze.
It has come down to this : It is time for the first grass cutting of the year.
Oh how I hate the first cutting of the year - the ritual of getting the mower ready, of taking the time to pick up every scrap and piece of possible litter, of looking over the yard like the Superintendent of Augusta National - just to cut a bunch of weeds and spring onions.
Oh how I hate to sit on the mower for 3 or 4 or or more hours, just to find out that i missed picking up a rock that has not surfaced for millions of years, but decided to this winter just in time to have my mower strike it and bust a hole in my vinyl siding.
Oh how I hate to ride on the mower all day for the first time of the year and get sore in my lower back, though hopefully the weight I lost this winter will lessen that.
But oh how I love to look a a yard just cut, nd to ride the mower and drink a cold beer.
So I guess it just one of those things you gotta get over with.
Here's to another year of grass cutting, weed eating, round up spraying, and leaf raking.