This garden is a tribute to a long time friend and fellow trainee who sends me photos from time to time. And it’s about time I published a few of them. Thanks, and I will have to take a picture of my golden pansies and other brightly coloured individuals I have in a solitary pot on the front step.
Along with the primal qualities of walking across the land comes the walking across the land pushing a lawn mower. Rarely do I have the opportunity to do this however to-day I mowed the front lawns, ours and the neighbour’s as well. It’s been a happy arrangement. Once I came back thirsty from a walk intent on cutting the grass only to find the neighbour had done it already. In the winter I’d shovel snow off our sidewalk as a matter of routine. We have an easy give and give arrangement.
The primal part of mowing goes so deep it’s hard to capture. The smell of cut grass, the sound of the mower, the all’s-well-with-the-world feel of a summer afternoon out-doors in the garden. Yes, there was something deeply fulfilling about to-days mow. Flashes of my bare chested father zipping up and down the garden with his old faithful machine. He took silent pride in the condition of the lawns, not obsessive just a natural pride. Now I am following in his footsteps.