Perspective

From a distance, my lawn looks great.  Up close, my lawn looks terrible.  Both perspectives are unfair, I think.  It is self-serving and lazy to imagine that a quick glance from the street is how best to measure the quality of my work.  It is self-defeating and depressing to hover over each blade of grass (or weed, or dead spot) and wonder what I did so horribly wrong as to bring on this tragedy.

Perspective makes all the difference.  You’re either a hero or a goat, a genius or an idiot.  Both perspectives are true, and both are lies.

Drift

I cut my front lawn in long strips, one to the immediate left of the other.  If you cut yours left to right, I have no issue with that.  Agree to disagree. 

Anyway, I say that because I have noticed a distinct tendency for my rows to drift to the left just as I am preparing to make the turn and head back in the opposite direction.  The amateur psychologist in me thinks it is a tendency to rush through things, that I am eager to start the next stage  — and therefore move closer to the finish line — before I have actually finished the current project.

Get to work

For me, the toughest thing about cutting grass — by far — is putting on my shoes.  It seems illogical, but it’s true.  I will come up with any and every conceivable reason to not get out there and do what needs to be done.  Too hot.  Too wet.  Too tired.  Too busy.  Too many interesting videos on YouTube.

Once I get my shoes on, though, I’ll go.  And once I go, I’ll finish. 

Window

It’s been raining a lot lately.  Maybe you’ve noticed.  Rain in the summer has been one of the toughest things for this Texas boy to get used to in this part of the world.  That, and what the locals call “Mexican food.”

The good thing about rain is, it helps my lawn grow.  The bad things is, it helps my lawn grow.  And grow.  And grow.