I just finished mowing the yard–all four acres of it–and I can say with certainty that the dog days of summer are here. Wow, it’s miserable hot and humid.
Added to this chore is the sickening fact that my lawn mower is about ready to give up the ghost. I know a cylinder blew the last time I mowed, and I’m running on one. Crawling better describes it. The guy who fixed it in the spring said if it went again, that was it. Bury the *$%@ and buy new. *sigh*
The only grass that had grown was the crappy stuff–saw grass, water grass, crab grass. It looks ugly standing tall, and uglier cut short because it’s just a bunch of browish stubbs then.
Do I care? No!
I don’t have a lawn service–wouldn’t have one even if I could afford it. There’s too much poison out there already without me contributing. Besides, if I fertalized, re-seeded, de-thatched, aerated, watered, yada, yada, I’d have to mow grass more often.
That takes time–my writing time. So I’ll be content with the spotty lawn and strive just to keep it down until the summer is history.