Leonard Gray / L’Observateur / August 12, 2000

As you read this column, I’m laying on the floor of my living room, trying to soak up the breezes from the air conditioner, two fans and a pitcher of lemonade. Why? I just cut the grass.I can still conjure up the sweet memories of those days when we first moved into this house and the lot was so new, it only had the river sand and whatever weed seeds came along with it. The weeds were so thick andwe thought we’d never get grass to grow in it.

We pulled and poisoned, chopped and cussed but we finally conquered the weeds and have lush, thick grass growing, helped along with twice-annual doses of Weed and Feed and a mulching mower.

Now, the grass grows so fast, so thickly, that even with a self-propelled mower, it’s all I can do to cut the grass every week.

The drought helped, to be sure. However, I’m dreading the results of thisweek’s rain. It was already high, since I skipped last week. Now, it’s goingto be a real battle.

The game plan includes getting up at my usual time, around 5:30 a.m.,slurping down some coffee and breakfast to wake me up, making a pitcher of ice-cold lemonade, dragging out the mower and cranking it up around 6:30 a.m., before the heat builds up or the day’s rain develops.My wife will mumble darkly, not wanting to get up herself, wanting only to sleep late. However, the mower will be passing within a few feet of thebed, so she will certainly awaken.

I’ll mow and choke the mower with the thickness of the grass, restart the mower again and again, sweat like a galley slave at the oars and drive myself almost to a heart attack. Finally, I’ll finish, put away the mowerand drag myself inside to suck down the lemonade, strip to the skin and lay exhausted on the floor to cool down.

But wouldn’t it be better to hire some hulking teen-ager to endure all this? Probably, but husbands work cheaper.

All we ask is for her to step outside, steaming coffee mug in hand, look around, and comment, “Good job, dear.”And that’s enough.

LEONARD GRAY is a reporter for L’Observateur.

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