How Green I am
How Green I am
How dead I’ll be
If someone doesn’t
Cut for me.
It’s too late now,
I’m almost “done”
Beat by the work,
Burnt by the sun.
I wrote this little poem for Bruce…ok, I was drinking wine at the time …I guess that accounts for the similarity to another popular verse…
What inspired me to write was the sight of Bruce lying prone on my oriental carpet in the sitting room – exhausted after having cut the lawn with a push mower (these are quite popular here in Lancaster County).
This happens every time he mows. You see, this year he decided we could trim our budget by cutting our lawn at The Artist’s Inn. So he cancelled the service that had cut, trimmed, carried away clippings and done a terrific job for the past ten years. Now we have Bruce with his green machine.
Of course, we have a perfectly good mower – actually a self propelled one that used to be my father’s. But Bruce answered the call of “going green” last year when he was inspired by our neighbors, the Wengers.
Bruce would watch as Bob effortlessly cut their lawn with the old-fashioned push mower. At times, their ten-year old son, Michael, also mowed. The mower seemed to glide over the grass like swans on a lake, didn’t make any noise, and would afford the “pusher” some exercise.
All sounded like a good idea at the time.
And so Bruce ordered the bright green mower. It came in a box and he put it together. The handle broke in the first three months. It never felt quite as easy to operate as Bob Wenger’s. Bruce came across an old push mower during his walk one day. A neighbor had put a “free” sign on it and placed it at the curb. This was a convenient find, as Bruce was waiting for the other mower’s replacement handle to arrive.
Once the blades were sharpened, the mower seemed to do the job. Yes, it takes a little muscle, and my flowers are a bit worse for the wear…but we sure are green. And Bruce remains trim while he trims the grass. I just wonder how exhausted he’ll be when the dog days of August roll around….