MICKI BARE Advertisement

The children are back in school, the temperatures are beginning to recede and we only have a couple more months of mowing left in the lawn season. Well, not for my uncle in Minnesota, who winterized his lawnmower a few weeks ago.

Here in the Southeast, moist air combined with multiple sunny afternoons provides for optimal growing conditions.

My parent's lawn is growing more now than it did all summer. Hubby and I have been helping with the maintenance of their expansive yard, so the slower-growth month was nice. But it's over.

Our own lawn, if you could call it that, doesn't really care about the weather. It has slowly receded over time and now constitutes about a millionth of an acre just to the right of our front steps.

Rain or drought, if we clip it once every couple of weeks, the neighbors don't complain.

Meanwhile, back at my parent's place, I was trying to hold out until the weekend when Hubby could hop on the "tractor" for a couple of hours and take care of the landscaping.

Unfortunately, as the moist air and sun kept pounding down on the green blades, it became more and more difficult to see their dog as she frolicked with the butterflies in the backyard.

Not only was I worried about my parent's dog's life, domesticated and defenseless amongst the wilderness that had overtaken the yard, but I was concerned that the natural re-seeding taking place could soon cause their grass to take over the entire neighborhood and eventually the whole town.

So, one dry and less-humid afternoon, I hopped on the riding mower and began the task of cutting as much as possible so Hubby would be able to repeat the process without clogging up the mower or being attacked by snakes, alligators, lionesses and other critters that skulk around in tall, damp blades.

As I made my way around their property, I re-discovered their beautiful blooming bushes and the rock footpath that still leads to the gazebo.

I also discovered that had I trimmed the lawn a few days earlier, I could have avoided making three or four passes over the same areas in an effort to mulch up the clippings enough to avoid the need to rake.

There was one other aspect of the lush lawn that I noticed while atop the tractor.

One spot in particular that clearly drains well and receives lots of shade during the day was actually brown. There was a bald spot hidden behind tall, wispy, deep green blades.

You have to know my father, and how particular he has always been about his landscaping -- I've been picking up green chunks of moist clippings and relocating them to flower beds since I could walk -- to understand my trepidation at reporting back to him about the dry patch.

But report back I did, lest he hear it from another source and then question me about it later.

So, I went in and mentioned that we had some good news and some bad news. The good was that I was making excellent progress on the tractor.

The bad news was that I found one, dry, balding spot amidst the lush overgrown acres of suburban yard. But, I continued -- trying not to make eye-contact just yet -- I had an idea.

I suggested that we leave the tall grass growing around the edges of the bald spot alone and let that grass grow taller. In a week or so, we could comb it over the bald area and no one would be the wiser.

Dad looked at me and smiled. "Good idea," he responded, knowing that I would not leave tall grass in his yard, while at the same time gently understanding that there was a problematic spot for which his expertise would be needed to rectify.

It took about an hour to finish up the mowing that day. I actually completed the last side in less than four minutes as dark clouds rolled in and the faint rumblings of thunder could be heard in the distance.

Not only did I want to avoid a lightning strike while riding Dad's tractor, I really wanted to finish what I'd started so Hubby wouldn't have to borrow farm equipment to clear that patch over the weekend.

Droplets began to sprinkle down just as I backed the mower into position in the garage.

The forecast called for periods of rain for 48 hours, then sunshine for the rest of the week and into the weekend. The newly mulched lawn would grow well in such conditions.

I called Hubby and bragged about my excellent mowing abilities and noted how nice the yard looked.

I sure didn't want him showing up on Saturday, taking one look around the place and thinking I'd let it go until he arrived to do it.

Micki Bare is a columnist for the Arkansas News Bureau and the Courier-Tribune in Asheboro, N.C., and author of the book, "Relative Expressions." She lives in Asheboro with her husband and three children. Her e-mail address is mickibare@inspiredscribe.com.