Yesterday it stopped raining. My desire to do something took hold of me. I started by planting the kale; I followed it with the chard. I hemmed, I hawed, I picked some weeds out of a new garden bed. I poked around. Then finally the amazing power of Anne kicked in and I pulled my scythe out of the garage. My new whet stone was unwrapped and I worked out the dings in my blade left from last season's occasional pebble. I sharpened and got to work.
Whish, whoosh, whish through the wet grass. Slash, whisk, cut went the dandelion heads. And round and round the yard I went as the baby slept. That gentle quiet rhythm. Listening to the birds chirping. Making Hay. Enjoying the job at hand. Feeling my muscles.
I fight the battle every year in my mind, the desire of a well groomed lawn compared to the efficiency of my man powered tool. I imagine my waist becoming more slender with each twist; the lengthening and strengthening of my shoulders and arms as I swing. My lawn remains uneven. It invites insects and flowers and diverse plants into it. I find that I love admiring my landscape as I cut through the turf. I love how quiet it is. It makes an irregular lawn that scythe of mine, but that's me, an irregular person. And while we're "city living" in our little downtown Eastport location, it's really just the littlest homestead that we sit upon.
Each year we do the little bits that we can to improve out home, our yard, our landscape. With two little ones and constant repairs and surprises snatching away our funding it is a struggle to put any aside for our yard. So it is with little windows of time, energy and money that we make the yard, the retreat that we desire. I see the grand picture coming together. I watch as our man power is utilized, one nap at a time, just working and working until we are satisfied with a job well done.
No comments:
Post a Comment