Scenes from My Lawn Mower

I grabbed my camera and snapped some pics on my last few rounds. This old ash tree came in handy as a place we could hang our little man's tire swing.

Today was mowing day. This is a chore I both love and hate.

My lawn crew

I always take great satisfaction in seeing my scruffy-looking yard become neat and trimmed. Early in the season I also enjoy the peace, tranquility, and reflection that comes from hours of riding over the yard whenever I mow. When mowing almost 5 acres a lot of reflection can take place. During these beautiful spring months I look forward to this little bit of solitude each and every week.

All we need is a picnic table. Can you spot John-Heath's dump truck?

Of course, if I were to be writing about mowing, say, in August I would put an entirely different spin on this chore. Then, in 90 degree heat (or worse) and a whole lot of humidity, 4 hours on a hot engine is not so relaxing.

They look nice but I wouldn't sit in them. I should have taken this one after the weedeating.

Today was a good day. I mowed. John took care of the weed-eating. Ren and John-Heath picked up rocks from the yard. John-Heath thought it was a pretty cool thing to do. Ren...not so much. She was eager to remind me repeatedly that her friends were on their way to various beaches or cruise ships and she was being forced into manual labor. One day, she'll thank me. Or maybe not.

My least favorite part of the yard to mow - between this row of trees and the fence.

And now it is time to retire for the evening, just as soon as I wipe down my right arm and hand with some strong muscle ointment and take a couple Ibuprofin. Goodnight, friends. This gal is tired.

Looking up at one of the hackberry trees. Don't you just love the color of new leaves?

Buttercups

My newly-planted buttercups. Ahhh!

Since childhood I have been in love with buttercups. It has been told in my family that I once picked every single buttercup in and around my grandparents' yard to give to my grandmother, Momma Beatrice, as a gift. I do remember that it seemed the hillside on their property was full of them. I just thought they were beautiful. I cannot say whether or not I got into trouble for this particular endowment effort.

The buttercups of which I am particularly fond, the solid yellow, trumpet-shaped beauties that pop out of the ground to let us know that spring is on its way, are actually a variation of the daffodil. Scientifically, I have learned that true buttercups are in the genus Ranunculus and bear little resemblance (other than in color) to my most beloved perrenial. I guess it must just be a southern, or at least a northern-middle Tennessee, thing that we call ours "buttercups", as well.

You would think that somewhere on the 150 acres around me I might be able to spot some. No such luck. So, on my last trip to Wally-world I bought two pots. Now, I can look out from my back porch and see them in the little wooded area in our backyard. This appeases me some, but what I really want are the old-fashioned ones growing wild along the road or in a field where surely a house must have once stood. There. I have talked myself into it. I will now pressure John into driving down back country roads with a shovel and bucket so that he can get me some of these little handfuls of happiness. Wouldn't it be swell if he could even get some from my Pa Vernon's old homeplace?

If Meg Ryan's character in You've Got Mail was correct in her thought that daisies are the friendliest flower, then buttercups are surely the sunniest.

Hurry Up, Summer!

Tagging along behind his big sister.

A flower for mommy - held by two of the most beautiful, dirty hands ever!




Stripped down...his favorite way to be!



Looking at all the work needed to be done to our yard.



We are wanting to landscape around this little grove of trees. John-Heath has another good idea for its use.