Lean green mowing machine

Since the resident lawn-care person is otherwise occupied for the next year, it’s fallen to me to attend to the yard. It’s not terribly big -- three city lots plus a right-of-way that we keep mowed. This wouldn’t be a problem, except for three things:

I don’t like our riding mower.

The push mower is in storage, thanks to the now-delayed move overseas.

I have zero interest.

Gardening and poking in the flower beds, I enjoy. But encouraging grass to grow tall and lush just so it has to be cut again? Not so much.

I decided the answer was an old-school reel mower -- quiet, low-maintenance, and green. It’d be good exercise, as well as perfect for any yard we might have in Germany. I wheeled my newly assembled purchase out of the garage for a spin and didn’t even have it off the driveway before the guy next door called over, “I haven’t seen one of those since I was a kid!”

This leads me to the fourth thing I don’t enjoy about yardwork. I can’t remember a time when I’ve been toiling outside that our neighbor hasn’t been lounging in front of his house, chain-smoking and getting his drink on. Not that there would be anything wrong with this, if he would stay quiet. And stop leering, as long as I’m wishing. Anytime I’m doing anything he considers man’s work -- raking leaves, washing the car, mowing the yard -- he keeps up a running patter of hilarious (to him) commentary. Once in a blue moon he offers concrete help, but it would come at a price I do not want to pay, so I politely decline.

Back to the mower. I only did the front yard, because I was running out of daylight and the grass didn’t need cutting in the first place, but I was excited about the new toy. (Besides, the back is full of sweet small violets that I don’t have the heart to mow down.)

The downsides are that if you hit a stick at the wrong angle, you stop extremely suddenly. It’s no small amount of work; my out-of-shape arms were getting tired after half the yard. And the blades are too quiet to drown out the neighbor telling me that I’m almost ready for Ranger School.

Those issues aside, I think it’s going to be all right. I don’t miss the racket, or fiddling with an engine, or kicking up rocks with window-breaking velocity. I’ll no doubt be gasping a different tune come August, when it’s 98 and humid. But for now, I’m feeling a little Earth Day spirit.