Taming the Natural World

Look, ye of little faith in my veracity, and behold: an image of the reason I had to mow the lawn!


Sometimes, as I know that all my Facebook friends will see this post featured on their various newsfeeds, and as I know that only ten percent of those people (assuming — falsely — that they all actually boot Facebook regularly to check the “news”) will end up clicking on the blog, I get tempted to artificially stimulate interest and the resultant hits by saying juicily tantalizing things up front here like: sex, bondage, patriot or iPhone (sorry, I just couldnʼt bring myself to write “iPad,” as that name still makes me snigger like a prurient junior high schoolboy discovering a dirty tampon in the park). But I and Wakdjunkagaʼs Blog are far too superciliously snooty for that kind of behavior. (And I did actually place the key vulgarisms, if they even qualify as that, beyond the number of words that I think show up in the Facebook feeds.) However, the notion gives me an idea for a post on advertising, as I have been finding commercials particularly and annoyingly asinine of late. But that post will have to be another day, because todayʼs is all about mowing the yard. [Cue tingles of excitement up and down your eager spines.]

But first, an update on the driveway…

some of the stuff mentioned below (in the third paragraph)

Well, itʼs the day before the day before you will read this (that would be Tuesday in ordinary-speak, and the timely amongst you will be reading this post on Thursday). Yesterday/Monday the concrete team was dumping sand (presumably limestone crushed, as that was what the bid said would be used as the base), leveling and compacting, measuring and releveling and recompacting all through the afternoon. Today/Tuesday was then supposed to feature the pouring of the concrete/cement/whatever they call the hard gray stuff that will be the new and uncracked surface of our driveway. So far this cool, sunless, cloudy morn I have checked both of my e-mail accounts, perused all the 300-plus new posts on my Facebook newsfeed — including the several featuring videos to watch (and the one with the thousand-word rejoinder to the pretty irrationally biased video) — and caught via the internet last nightʼs Daily Show with John Stewart (maybe more on that to come, as they addressed the ridiculosity of the manufactured “outrage” against the longplanned Muslim cultural center in a onetime Burlington Coat Factory building blocks away from the site of the former World Trade Center towers). I have also done my bit to artificially increase the number of hits WordPress shows for this hallowed blog and doublecheck my correctness and editing. Itʼs going on 10:15 (by which time on Monday/yesterday the driveway guys were going hard at it), and so far no progress. Sigh.

With the cloudiness today, theyʼre possibly worried about rain. Or something…

…the tangled, overgrown undergrowth

So far the guys have not torn up our yard much in doing their work. Yes, there are two strips of about eight to ten inches of grass and dirt along the drive gouged out beyond the two-by-twelves that will frame the concrete when it eventually arrives. And there is one large chunk of concrete and some other bits of rock of cement sitting along the curb, killing the grass underneath (which was mostly a weedy mix of some grass, dandelions and clover and nasty old watergrass, anyway). Therefore, I will end up with almost exactly the same mowing job I face each summertime week, prolonged slightly by the need to avoid the setting concrete, when I drag out the mower today (that would be your today/Thursday) or tomorrow to trim the yard into its brief state of decency for all the churchgoers to admire on Sunday.

The spate of rainy heat last week and the week before kept me from being the envy of the neighborhood (do read the bashful sarcasm that is present there), as I easily found reason to avoid the normal mechanical clipping chore for almost two weeks. I had intended to mow the yard last Thursday or Friday, as usual and just a day or two later than when I had pruned the greensward the previous week. But we got big rain both days, so the job did not get done until Saturday afternoon, by which time the teeming jungle I had allowed to fester and grow had become a mighty foe for me to wearily and tediously overcome. Janet was engaged in her hebdomadal phone conversation with her sister as I sweated (perhaps I am now understating the situation) and struggled through the tangled overgrowth with the machine gagging on the excessive greenery and dying with monotonous regularity, even though I had cranked the motor up to its highest speed. Nearly four hours later, the job was done, but exhausted, muscles quivering with excessive exertion, and soaking in perspiration, I gave up on the raking (a decidedly necessary chore with the four-inch grass cuttings scattered in windrows) after I had at least cleared the front yard for the Methodistsʼ delight the next morning (not knowing then that the concrete guys would be blocking the view with their trucks and excavator). The single bagful of clippings I had gathered went, with some branches the stormy weather had blown down from our trees, to the cityʼs yard waste dumpsite on my way back from the entirely enthralling bloodborne pathogens presentation I have mentioned Tuesday and Wednesday.

Clearly, I find creating pix of Dictionary definitions an amusement.

A pile of raked-up grass clipings for me to bag up and take away

A second grass pile (of three)

I raked the rest in about thirty minutes later on Monday evening, and once I finish typing this droll report (now you are back to recalling that I write on Tuesday morning), I shall bag up the two piles I created to haul away as well. Such is the gloriously exotic sublimity of my daily existence.

And the point of it all is this: I will probably be doing it again, as noted above, today or tomorrow — just with shorter and therefore less harrowing (heh, heh) grass.

If you are fortunate, I may think of something more worthy and interesting to pen for tomorrow. See you then.

In looking back I realize that I have more than once (but once unintentionally) used redundancies. The unintended repetition was “prurient junior high boy.” Clearly, the “prurient” is an unnecessary, albeit preliminary, tautology. For the overindulgent rest (and the preceding weak joke), my apologies (although I did amuse myself).

And no workers showed by noon, when all this was completed, either. [The concrete work commenced Wednesday morning — theyʼre going at it, raking concrete across the drive area while actually standing in the stuff, walking around, with one guy flattening and smoothing it all from the garage out, as I add this note on Wednesday morning about 9:40. Considering all the rain that fell on Tuesday afternoon, it was a wise and good thing they chose to hold off.]

©2010 John Randolph Burrow, Magickal Monkey Enterprises, Ltd, S.A.

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