This past weekend I had to perform jungle warfare on my back lawn. We had some flooding and base housing told us to cease and desist our mowing until they could fix the yard. I guess they took one look at me and decided I would try to swim in the puddles that had formed.
They may have been correct…
So for six weeks the grass just got drenched in all of this Washington state rain that drought ridden areas would envy. Meanwhile, I couldn’t give this water away. Isn’t that the way it always works?!?
Finally, the drains have been dug and the new grass is growing in those areas; meanwhile the grass in the rest of the yard was now at my waist. So I mosey over to the garage and pull out my lawn mower and weed whacker. As I set up, I just start to laugh. My mower is battery-powered, weighs less than 18 pounds, is made of plastic, and has a diameter of 17 inches.
It is pretty awesome in most cases. I mean, it is light weight and easy for me to maneuver. I live in base housing or a comparable town home in every duty station we are assigned to, so the yards are always small. And I never, ever have to worry about emptying a gas tank prior to the Navy movers showing up to take my junk to the next place. So all in all, I thought it was a practical purchase.
But it’s no jungle tamer.
So many, many, many hours later I was done with the mowing portion. But only because my 4 hour battery ran dry….Then I got out the weed whacker and literally whacked weeds, grass, even a few pieces of fencing that will never be the same. And I have once again tamed the backyard.
The Littles and Lola looked so disappointed and my forearms are on fire from the labor.
Maybe I’ll just let it grow and we’ll reenact Where the Wild Things Are and charge admission to the neighbors.
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