This is the sky:
This is your lawn on the sky (Note the mushrooms!):
Well, the lawn didn't win. At least I don't think so.
As I've mentioned, we've been getting epic amounts of rain. Usually, I don't think much of it because it simply means more water to paddle on. However, it has been so wet that mowing the lawn has been impossible. Today, Father's Day, I decided that it was necessary for me to mow the lawn come hell or high water. (Thought I was joking about the high water part when I started, but noooo....) About two weeks ago, I fed and limed the lawn again as it was doing somewhat poorly. Then it began to rain. After each rainfall, there seemed to be a rustling noise followed by an audible *POP!* and the grass would grow another 2". This morning, I went out to empty the compost into the bin we keep out back and my feet were disappearing with each footstep into the verdant leviathan which my lawn has become. Drastic intervention was required, rain or no rain.
Time for the Lawn Ranger and his faithful steed, Orange.
After a passing shower, I checked the weather map for a break in the action and hopped on my trusty Husqvarna. It is a beast of a machine that is fortunately equal to the job with its 15HP two-cylinder engine and twin blades. I managed to get less than one loop of the lawn before the bagger was full. They're large containers and hold several cubic feet of cut grass. I found I had to stop after every loop of the lawn to empty the bagger, slowing me down. To empty the bagger, I head out the path to the grass pile, and enormous, lumpy green moster of immense proportions. It sits under a canopy of Sumac with its pale palmate leaves looking very tropical. I can't seem to get the opening lines of this song out of my head as I go to empty the bagger:
Then, Mother Nature decided to laugh at me. She sent more rain. Buckets of it. I did manage to get back in the garage before the heavens opened. I got maybe a quarter of the lawn cut. Dang. I sat on the mower hoping to wait out what I figured was another passing shower. After a few minutes, it showed no sign of stopping.
I gave up for the moment and went into the house to start working on dinner. We'd invited my father over for a Father's Day supper. On the grill. Really. This is New England, however. ("If you don't like the weather, wait a minute.") The rain slowed and stopped, allowing me to light the grill as the weather showed signs of a change for the positive. During dinner, a wide swath of sunlight on the kitchen floor mocked me as I sat eating.
After dinner and my father's departure, I went back to mowing. The swaths of grass that I'd cut earlier in the afternoon was an inch higher than the stuff I cut after dinner. I swear.
I did manage to get the lawn done. Thankfully, the Husky doesn't slow down for wet grass. Discretion being the better part of valor, I opted not to get out the weed-wacker to clean things up. With fresh wet grass like this, I always get spattered from toes to hips with a spray of green making me look like some odd half-elf mixture. Maybe tomorrow.