August 27 2007, 08:43 PM Haymaker

One of the aspects of this place that I dearly enjoy is that there is something of mine on the other side of these walls, and I can put a foot on land outside and still be standing on my home. The apartment wasn't like this: there was no place to spend time outdoors there that wasn't shared, much less built for such. It is good that the hammock has a place, beneath the maples. With all of this comes the responsibility of upkeep, though: the work of weeding, and pruning. The lawn.

I have a reel mower, a push mower. I know how those go; I spent some small amount of my childhood running one of those around the lawn I grew up on. The trick to that was that the grass of my childhood did not grow in maniacal punctuated spasms, so that kind of mower was effective. The other trick to that was that the lawn of my youth was flat. My present yard is not, and the grasses that grow there seem to lie coiled, waiting for the rains when they stretch upward with giggling glee, all in a day. Under these conditions, a reel mower is less than optimal.

It's a good machine. It makes a soft noise as it rolls, the ticking of summer evenings as the set of blades spin through. I'd much rather use it for this reason. Its peaceful up here on the hill, and I'd like to do my part to extend that. For my lawn, though, it's the wrong machine. Particularly on the slopes: there may be stone works in the future to fix these things and make that mower workable again, but for now, I need other options.

There is the idea of an electric mower. The corded ones I dislike; I have no ready outlets, and I know that I will end up mowing the damn lead. I'm predisposed to that sort of thing. They make cordless ones as well, but no one seems to be making one that is both of high quality and reasonable cost. A cordless mower would also saddle me with eventually dead batteries. They're pretty loud, too.

I looked into getting a scythe. There is a small resurgence in the use of these things. They can be had cheap at the more rural yard sales around here, old wood polished by hands and time. The trick to scythes, though, is that they really need to be sized well to the person using them. A scythe that fits is reportedly a joy to use, and extension of the self that effortlessly brings down the stalks. There are companies that will take your measurements and send you a fitted scythe for a goodly fee (but less than, say, a new mower). Scythes require attention, to be sure: an important part of using one is stopping from time to time to whet the edge, and occasionally to peen it. The wooden part of a scythe has a name: they call that part of the tool the snath. I like this sort of thing. I do better with tools I have a connection with, that come with the type of hand work that is good for thinking of unexpected things. Scythes are quiet, too.

I'm tempted, but I'm reasonably sure it is not the correct tool. Would that it was! Perhaps I'll try one anyway, some year. It seems the sort of conceit that is more useful than not, in life.

In any case, I've been ruined already. I got into trouble with the reel mower early in the season, and a friend of mine lent me a gas powered mower. I have to worry about gas and oil now (both use and disposal). It's a noisy beast, and while it is a modern engine, it still belches bad air. I am aware that what I am hefting around the yard is a power tool, and all the danger that this implies.

But, heaven, can it cut grass. In the lee of the compost bin is now a goodly pile of clippings, slowly turning from green to brown in the shade. Some of them go into the bin; the rest will wait to be mixed in with the leaves, when they lose their green and fall.

The lawn engines of others are active tonight, growls echoing across the curve of the hill, the bowl of the valley. The crickets are giving them a run for their money, regardless.