When Jack and I moved to Washington, we wound up living in houses with a lawn. Pretty typical suburban life, ya' know. For those who have been to our current house, you've seen the grass here. The front yard is on a bit of a slope, and the back yard is huge by current subdivision standards. Most of our yards are lawn which needs to be mowed . . . While the landlady has someone come in monthly to do the front lawn, maintaining the back is totally up to us. Well, the lawn mowing has always been Jack's job. Since he's died, it kind of leaves the lawn mowing up to one person: me! Oh, joy. (Note the tone of sarcasm.) So, this week I bit the bullet. I had the landlady come over and show me the ins and outs of the mower. I did the front lawn on Monday. No small feat considering the odd shapes and the slope and considering that I'd never used this mower before. Today I attacked the back yard. It took me 45 minutes of steady work due to the frequent emptying of the lawn mower bag, but I got it done. Talk about a cardio workout! Then, within an hour of coming inside, it started to rain. Guess I got the timing right.
I wasn't sure if I should be sad because Jack wasn't here and this is such a change for me, or if I should be happy and proud because I was able to do it. Or maybe a little bit of both.