May 23, 2005

Mowing the Land

Scarlett: Oh, Pa. You talk like an Irishman.
Gerald: It's proud I am that I'm Irish, and don't you be forgetting, Missy, that you're half-Irish, too. And, to anyone with a drop of Irish blood in them - why, the land they live on is like their mother. Oh, but there, there. Now, you're just a child. It'll come to you, this love of the land. There's no getting away from it if you're Irish.


Is there a man whose heart doesn’t beat faster when atop a riding mower? Why, he is king of his world then, there upon his green chariot, producing a fine felt carpet in his wake! There he sits like Eddie Albert upon his tractor making the land his own. Nay I say what man doesn’t hold the immortal words of the poet Victor Mizzy close to his heart?--
Green Acres is the place to be!
Farm livin’ is the life for me,
Land, spreadin’ out, so far & wide!
Keep Manhattan just give me that countryside
And you can do fun stuff like see how fast you can go without wrecking into a tree. This requires lightning-fast reflexes and great hand-eye coordination which I have in abundance, most obviously shown by my Kindergarden grade of S+ (satisfactory plus to the uninitiated) in coordination skills.

You can do figure-eights, or cut messages into the turf like when in newlywed bliss I cut a swath reminding my wife I loved her. She could make it out from the 2nd story window.

Yes, few pleasures are as underrated as riding the mower. There's the smell of grass in the air, the feel of the saddle, & the knowledge that the dog poop you just ran over would've found your shoes had you a push mower. Progress may not always be progressive but exceptions can be made.

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