Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Cutting the Grass!


O Reader! Had you in your mind
Such stores as silent thought can bring,
O gentle Reader! You would find
A tale in everything.
        William Wordsworth


Just one more round; I drive the riding lawn tractor around the lawn for the final cut. This is the first time I have cut it as a dead battery had delayed this bi-weekly ritual for a week. As I drive over the grass I admire the look of the beautiful manicured lawn and I am happy I have finished it. I did love the look of the dandelions mixed with the tall grass, their beautiful heads now cut off and cast to the side but I know they will return.

My mind wanders back to a time long ago where life seemed much simpler.

I cannot for the lifes of me remember when I was a little kid if we had grass and if my Dad cut it or not. I do know my Grandpa used to let me help cut his when I would visit. I would stand between the grass cutter and him and he would wrap his big strong hands around my little hands and the handle. We would push the grass cutter forward the blades would turn and I remember the nice smell. He would let me help him every time. I miss the security of my Grandpa’s big hands and his laugh as we worked.

I remember as a kid we had a lot of space surrounded by overgrown hay fields. I remember it was green, with brown worn spots where the dirt was exposed. I remember there were ducks, turkeys, and lots of kids running around playing on it not paying any mind to how it looked. There were ten of us and most of the neighbourhood kids. Now that I think of it some of the neighbour kids had very green grass.

I remember my Dad standing with one or two of the boys showing them how to cast a fishing line with just a red and white bob and no hook to practice with. I remember my Mom rolling down the little hill with us, all of us laughing and enjoying the summer day. I also remember picking the yellow dandelions and popping their heads off and laughing as we shot them at each other. I remember we were happy and I truly do not remember if anyone ever cut the grass.


I miss my Dad, and I miss my healthy Mom and those ten or more kids running around on the yard no matter what it looked like. I guess I never truly missed the grass.

Later.



16 comments:

  1. Years ago, there was a sports figure (baseball, I think) that said "We're raising children, not lawns." I have always loved that and your memories made me think of it and smile.

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  2. I loved your happy memories. They are always tinged with a sadness aren't they? You don't remember it being that special when you do it...it's just happening! But you look back and it was special. It makes me think of what memories I am making for my grandchildren! How I wish I had been this wise when we had our kids! the smell of grass brings it all back. Have a good day. Joan

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  3. What wonderful memories!

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  4. there never was a shortage of kids on any of those lawns, but I do remember the great pickup ball games in that big vacant field

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  5. Thanks for the memories, Buttons.
    You took me down memory land....hugs
    Auntie M

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  6. great memories, with or without a mower. :)

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  7. Oh the things we remember from childhood.

    Sister and I went to Grandma's house to do our 4-H sewing. While we were there we also mowed the lawn. She had a riding mower and it was great! Grandma's flowers didn't always far so well after my mowing, but she still loves me.

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  8. Although a manicured lawn is important to me (maybe too much so!), you're right. The memories are so much more important than the lawn!
    I wonder if the grass cutter your Grandfather had was like what the Amish around here use all the time?

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  9. so beautifully written. i felt as if i was there with you :)

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  10. This is a beautiful tale, Buttons. I remember the smell of freshly cut grass, too. I still love it, even when I am the one cutting it!

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  11. Beautiful memories of your family.

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  12. Love the way you have described your memories of grass cutting, or lack of it. My father was a grass mowing fanatic -- almost scary at times -- but he loved it so much. So I have a much different memory than you, but it ends at the same place. :)

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  13. Those memories are what life is made up of. Thanks for the trip back. It made me want to roll in the grass.

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  14. Rolling down hills with your mom? What a wonderful memory she gave you. You are right, the things we remember aren't the chores...

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  15. Good memories, Buttons. Loved your photos too. Looking forward to the photos of the mountains of Alberta and B.C. too.

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  16. Beaut memories - its the simple things in life that spark them off isn't it.

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The mind grows by what it feeds on. J.G. Holland

Thank you so much for your comments, they mean more to me then I could ever express. Hug B

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