Day of days: today, when the sun is high enough that its heat has evaporated the morning's dew from the grass, an event will occur that hasn't happened since before August of 2007.
My red-headed angel will climb aboard our lawn tractor, which she's never operated before, and mow the yard.
I will be supervising, needless to say, with much trepidation and angst, keeping a close watch on deck height, speed and the mower's vacuum capacity.
DANG those blasted pine needles!
It's been a night of fitful sleeplessness. I've gone out to the shed twice since 0230, gazing longingly at my orange-and-black Ariens 22 horsepower mower and its 46" cutting deck, silently apologizing for the dangers it will face with the rising of the sun. I know where the too-high tree roots lay, roots with the ability to destroy a mower blade. I know where the too-steep yard slope can become a danger if you don't take the mower across it at just the right angle. I know the areas along crumbling roadways that border our property that can produce deadly asphalt shrapnel if you're not alert. I almost want to don an orange hard hat and sound three long blasts from an air horn, much like construction explosives contractors do before setting off charges, when Stacy starts the mower, in order to forewarn neighbors and pedestrians of impending danger. I'm almost considering calling Mike Bailey, a good friend and head of the county's Emergency Management Agency, to stand by while Stacy mows.
But I won't do any of that. I'll sit on the porch in a lawn chair, sipping on caffeine-free diet Pepsi, and watch my angel mow that lawn in my stead...
...and pray.
Have a great Saturday, everyone!
