I understand the weather but am not thrilled with its existence. That is to say, I whine piteously from some point usually around Thanksgiving until probably close to mid-April about how it's too cold and from around Flag Day until after we put all the white clothing away after Labor Day about the heat. Yeah, as rumor has it, I would bitch if hanged with a new rope.
Our weather in recent summers here in the Land of Steady Habits has been a modified hellscape in terms of both temperature and humidity. We'll have days of ninety-plus degree temperatures with a dew point so high you feel like you're walking in a fog of warm oatmeal that produces huge black clouds that become thunderheads and generate ferocious rain storms generating torrential downpours that flood storm drains and turn potholes into hot tubs that last ten minutes and still don't break the humidity.
What does happen is my lawn grows like I had moved to the Amazon rainforest and that in turn complicates my life as since I've aged our lawn seems to grow larger every time I cut it and after our recent weather, I could have used a machete for starters. I have an electric mower, battery-powered because I would run over the cord, and had to clear the bottom of the mower carriage of clipped grass ten times before I was finished.
Between busting my behind to grow grass (weeds I can grow; grass, not so much) and then cutting it, I've spent an inordinate amount of time recently wondering why grass at all? Every single house on my street and probably yours too has a grass lawn. How did this happen? Here's how.
When next I toil on what feels like the Dallas South Forty, I'll take solace from the sage insight of Maxine, whose reputation has little to do with lawn care: "The key to a nice-looking lawn is a good mower. I recommend one who is muscular and shirtless."
-bill kenny
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