Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Tamin the wildlands!

While at my sisters house I had the opportunity to mow their lawn. It was maybe 15 or 20 yards deep and half as wide. It might seem like a pretty normal activity, but remember that one event, when looked at through a different persepective, can seem very different. Here is what this event might look like through the eyes of an Irishman. This is my perspective as the Irish blood in my veins pumps through my heart, into my brain, and down to my fingers that compose the words. Do me a favor and read the following with an Irish accent. It will be more authentic then.
*          *          *          *          *          *
            Ah surveyed the scene before me and shuddered. It was enough to make a grown man lose some sleep and ah racked my brain tryin to recall why I had agreed to this. It seemed like all I could see before me was weeds and there were likely a thousand more behind them still.  There were mountains and valleys to be traversed and that wasn't to mention the weeds that would have to be sheared and the toys scattered about like landmines just waitin to trip me up and break me ankle.
            I wouldn’t have believed it was even possible if it werent’ for the Red and Black Beauty of a lawnmower that stood nearby, sleek and ready for the task. And what a beautie she was, a real solid pushmower (not self-prepelled cause only a sissy uses one of those) smooth, Aerodynamic. Am no expert, but I think she probably ran on a 28 cylinder motor. She had some real fire and when she got goin she didn’t stop till the job was done: that bein no more than a few minutes per acre when she had a good appetite. That, coupled with her unconquerable spirit, was why I named her Clare! I had borrowed her from the neighbor just a few hours before and ah couldn’t wait to see her when she was doin real work.
Ah looked at the tall weeds and considered acquire’n a chainsaw to hack through em, but figured ah might slip and put a hole in the fence which would av caused some upset with the neighbor who had lent me the mower in the first place.
            Ah walked over an pulled the starter and me faithful mower roared to life with more kick and spunk than a lion an more hunger than a Scotsman after a week without eatin or drinkin.  She raced forward tearin up the grass, and it was goin better than I ad even thought it could for about 3 seconds before she stunned me by seemin to lose her gas. Me trusty mower sputtered a few times and then died with a final shudder, givin up the fight.
ah walked around and around her a few times and puzzled over what could be the matter. It shouldn't av taken a genius to figure out she really had run out of gas, but mah old man gave the diagnosis that proved the cure. We filled her up and tried to start her up again, but the weeds were too tall so we ‘ad to adjust her a bit so she mowed higher. But then I got me a real shocker!
“In order to get the grass short enough you’re probably going to have to lower the mower after you go around once.” Me old man told me calm as a breeze.
            “what! Ya mean ah’m gonna have to tame this football field of a rainforest ya call a lawn, not once but twice! Have you lost yer mind? I’ll probably get eaten alive by the grasshoppers and mosqitoes before I starve to death. I hope I can join you for Saint Pattys day… of the year after next! !@$#@ Ah’ll probably need the time.”
            But what’s a man to do when faced with a job than to go about it so it gets done. After I got mah crazy beast of a mower started up and chewin again we got into a bit of a rhythm and I decided to just go ahead and mount the front and supervise while she did the work. I got comfy and leaned back against the two black bars that connected the handle bar and the body of the mower. I clasped my hands behind me head. Weeds and dirt were flyin through the air and ah couldn’t help but laugh in glee as the wind tore through me clothes and hair.
            It was probably a few hours later or maybe a year when I woke up and I could hardly believe me eyes when I surveyed the damage.
“ya did wonderful Clare! Look at what we’ve accomplished!”
I got the wheels adjusted and we took off again. all grudges forgivin, we worked as a team, and I don’t remember ever havin been one with a mower like that. It was somethin that might have gotten a lad to cry if any ad cared enough to watch us out there as we flew and ducked and darted through the grass.
At last a bit winded, but feelin satisfied I let Clare take a well-deserved break. Our work for the day was done. I checked my watch, 1:00pm. Time for a snack. I couldn’t wait to think of what me nieces would think of their new habitat.
*          *          *          *          *          *
            Perhaps best of all, was my 5 year old neice proclaiming bluntly, “Uncle Nate mowed the law. We didn’t recognize it!”

That grasshopper nearly had me leg!

No comments:

Post a Comment