Mowing: Zen and the art of lawn maintenance

    I’ve just come in from mowing the grass. It’s nearly dark, the bats are beginning to swoop and by the time I put the lawnmower away in the garage, I need to turn the porch light on as I come in the house. I blame my friend Tom.     

    You probably know someone just like him. His pride and joy is his lawn. Honestly, he can’t wait to get home from work so he can get on his mower. From May through October, he is a man obsessed. He is taming the countryside as he zooms around on his industrial SCAG mower; his lawn seems to get bigger every year. His wife tolerantly complains they don’t eat dinner until nearly 9 every night as he takes advantage of every moment of daylight. But he comes in from his work happy.

    His enthusiasm is contagious, and talking with him a year ago, my husband, Robert, and I figured out we could pay for a lawnmower in 12 months for what we were spending to have someone else mow. So, we bought a riding lawnmower — not a SCAG, but a popular John Deere model.

    We weren’t sure we would be able to keep up on the mowing, though. We were missing the classic must-have attachment for a lawn mower, the teenage boy; our son being either away at school or working a summer job. At first it was Robert’s responsibility, but as we are going our separate ways, I took over the task of lawn care. In no time at all I was converted.

    What seemed like it might be a chore has become an opportunity, a respite, something to look forward to. And it’s a feast for the senses; does anything else say summer more than the smell of fresh-cut grass?

    I jump on the mower, put on the earphones to deaden the noise and off I go. I divide the lawn into sections and start to create patterns. Sometimes I mow diagonally, sometimes back and forth. Around the fruit trees in the orchard, I mow in circles.

    But I’ve discovered you need a SCAG to get the turn-on-a-dime maneuverability. I have to execute a three-point turn when I get to the end of a row and sadly, the lines get messed up.

    The hours slip by. It’s rhythmic work and provides the satisfaction of a job well done when it is over. Tom says it’s about closing the circle. “Closure is not something readily available to many of us in our everyday personal and business lives, but it can be found on the lawn. What a feeling!â€�

    Of course, that feeling only lasts a day or two and then, the dandelions come back, the weeds start popping up, the grass is already looking like it needs another haircut. There are many aspects of my lawn that keep it from being golf-course ready: The dogs’ pee has burned the grass in spots; it’s chemical-free, so, weeds of all varieties run rampant; and I can’t deal with the weed-whacker. However, I think that lawn mowing for me is not about having a perfectly coiffed green carpet out my back door.  It’s about the meditative quality — despite the noise.

    OK, so about the noise. Many years ago, when my husband and I lived in New York City and we would go to the country on the weekends, he would complain about the incessant racket from lawnmowers. Seemed as if everyone on our street fired up their John Deeres right after their first cup of coffee and it pretty much lasted all day. Now that we live in the country full time, we pretty much hear lawnmower noise full time. I live on a quiet country road, but I have plenty of neighbors, so sometimes it sounds like a symphony of sorts.

    I have a neighbor who is bothered by the sound of my dogs barking, but as soon as he arrives from the city, he pulls out a weed whacker or some other piece of gas-powered lawn equipment and gets to work. The whirring, whining, buzzing noise commences. Is it ironic that it is soothing? Or is it only so for the user? Buffered by the earphones, and the thrum of the engine beneath my seat, it is easy to be lulled by the rhythm.

    But I wondered tonight as the evening wore on, is there an etiquette I’m unaware of? Is there an understanding that it’s OK to make noise at 8 a.m., but by the time cocktail hour rolls around the machinery should be stored? Is my meditation anyone else’s menace? If so, I hope any bothered neighbor will let me know.