Saturday, April 18, 2009

Grass and hats

Yesterday's post was my 1,000th.

That doesn't mean anything, just something to note.

Yesterday was also the first time this season that I broke out the lawn mower and shouldered that particular burden of home-ownership. Thursday morning I had talked myself into doing it when I got home from work on Friday. Such a thing was easy to say on Thursday, soon after a shower, in clean clothes, heading to work with a fresh cup of coffee working its way into my waking brain as I headed to the office.

It was a less palatable chore to consider as I left the office on Friday, a bit worn down, my head full of office thoughts, considering a light evening of pizza, movie, and some book reading. Yet, somehow, between leaving the office parking lot and the arrival in the driveway, I'd re-talked myself into it. 

And so, after changing into some shorts and shedding my office shirt, I attached the spark plug, filled the gas canister, and pulled the cord. The mower started up and I did the deed. I guess I had talked myself into it by casting the chore as simply a walk outside, just pushing the machine back and forth, letting it do its work. And while that IS true, it is more than a simple stroll. I had to push up the front yard rise again and again to get it done and I'm always struck with the "unfinished" nature of my lawns grass. So, there is a psychological component of it as well.

But it was done. And just moments ago, here on Saturday as I type, I finished the job by trimming the tallest fringe along the border of the front yard bed. And so, its done for another week.


While doing  this work I wore my sweat-stained Pioneer work cap. I've worn this hat for many years, since end of high school or college summer's at least. It is an emblem of my time working for Dad and a symbol of hard work and a talisman of Dad himself.

I've got two other Pioneer caps--one I call a "dress" cap that is more for wearing when talking to agra-salesmen for instance or while eating barbecue and sipping sweet tea with a clean shirt on during a field day. The other, my newest, is a winter hat, best suited for those hardy Iowa farmers who fold down the flaps to cover their ears when the winds get bitter in the fall or early winter. (When I wear that one next, it'll likely be when I'm shoveling snow next winter.)

Coming from the South, I never had to wear such as the third. My cap of choice was the all-mesh (allowing the full--if often meager--breeze to get to my sweaty head for a bit of cooling off. And sweat in it I did quite often.