Never in my life did I think I'd be writing a post about grass. I mean, I know that we're homeowners now, and I know that means that we have to actually maintain our large back yard and slightly smaller front yard, but COME ON... blisters... from a simple cut of the grass? Let me back up and explain.
Last weekend the weather was gorgeous. With the exception of some strong gusts of wind, the weather was perfect for yard work. My mom came to visit, so we could go to Home Depot (the second home of the Breaults--seriously) to pick up more flowers. The previous owners of our home had some majorly professional landscaping going on. Now that the weather had warmed up (and the snow was gone), we could see just how wonderful it was. Every day there were new flowers popping up through the mulch in the front of the house..on both sides..in a random (but totally planned) fashion. It was gorgeous! Along with the landscaping, the previous owners had left us about 10 large pots (ceramic and plastic) full of soil and plants. Some of the plants were clearly annuals and now deceased. They looked at me with all of their dried up brown-ness and screamed to be replaced, which brings us back to the Home Depot trip. After being seriously amazed at my mom's plant knowledge (not kidding, she could kill on Jeopardy), I arrived home with Snap Dragons, Salvia (no, Miley Cyrus, you can't smoke my plants!), African Orchids and Dahlias (all of which Mom knew the scientific names for). Purples, yellows, whites and pinks.. ready to be transplanted into the pots. I was lazy though and decided it could wait a day.
Sunday arrived in all of it's sunny glory. I sent Jeff to church by himself, telling him that I was going to head to our old apartment to begin the final cleaning process. The minute my feet hit the ground though, I had a different plan (seriously, on a whim). I knew the previous owners of the house had left us their self-propelled mower in the garage. Did it have gas? Yes, it did. That was all I needed. I pushed it out of the garage, around the side yard and into the back yard. I prayed that it would be an easy thing to figure out how to work one of these bad boys. Growing up on a farm, we had a riding mower. Never had I experienced the sheer joy (read: torment) of having to a) start a self-propelled mower and b) steer, avoid dog toys and not kill myself. It took a few pulls of the "starter" cord (Jeff is probably laughing at my inability to name the thing) before I noticed that there was a little lever labeled "choke" that I needed to flip. Once flipped, the thing started right up. EXCELLENT! I quickly realized that it wasn't the pushing or steering the mower that was going to cause me a headache...it was having to hold not only the lever that keeps the mower running, but also the lever that tells the mower to propel itself forward. It's convenient, in retrospect, to have these two levers be independent of one another. It's a pain (literally) in the right hand though, to have to hold them both back. After the first few passes through the yard, I realized that, even with my gloves on, my hand was getting sore already. Fast forward to the end of the mowing process--my hand was black and blue..and puffy. All of that being said, the back yard looked AMAZING. One trip to the gas station later, the front yard looked equally good--though the fact that the front yard has only one straight edge did create the need for an edger--when we get one, it'll look even better.
After my triumph over all things "grass" (and some seriously GREEN tennis shoes), I decided to plant all of the flowers. By the time Jeff returned from church, a mere 2.5 hours after he'd left, I'd mowed the whole yard and planted every last flower. I stood back to admire my work, and what do you know? I have a green thumb! It looks awesome (even if I do say so myself). Jeff seemed pleased, and my neighbors are probably jealous. Reese even enjoyed the back yard -- rolling in the clippings for 10 straight minutes.
Pictures of said yard and flowers to come soon.
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