While not mowing for a few weeks during the 'gee, is it warm enough to mow' phase of spring seemed like a good idea due to the dead lawnmower, I now realize it allowed a rougher element to creep into power amidst the young and tender blades of spring grass reaching skyward.
The tough grass is hard to cut, often requiring more than one pass to completely eradicate its presence among the softer stems that we'd like to encourage.
I am beginning to feel, with back aching and sore arms and legs that resemble nothing so much as quivering jelly that the course grass and weeds that have sprouted are bearing some quasi-invisible chlorophyll tattoos and possible gang connections to the field grasses from the vacant lot next door. Virtually impossible to cut in two complete passes, the mower must be rolled back and forth over the grass breaking all regulations in the mowing handbook about not raising the deck up and lowering it down onto the grass by degrees.
However, without this manuever, the tough grasses lay down in an evil limbo inspired initiation to prove that they are truly tough and that even my new mower isn't powerful enough to take
'em down! I can hear the maniacle laughter in the grass even now.
"You'll never take us alive, lady! Your mower can never take the Chlorophyll Clan!"
But, because I haven't ever been one to put up with the wicked laughter of unkempt grass and foliage, I persist until I hear the mower hit paydirt as it were, chopping into the tough stems until they are finally cut down to size.
The influence of the rough element is finally reduced amongst the softer grasses that invite barefoot walking on cool evenings. Since this is a work in progress, I have had to take a break from the rigors of the mowing and get a glass of water to replinish the tissues that have given their all to support my drive for a nice lawn.
While I doubt I'll ever win the coveted yard of the week plaque and the notariety of being in the newspaper as the envy of grasses all over town, I do want people who come to visit us to be able to enjoy the time spent in my yard without worrying that their steak will snatched by some predator from the high grass.
I heard they are doing a yard makeover contest at a TV station nearby. I need to enter that contest and get them to redo MY yard. Frankly, I'd be happy to just get some topsoil in to level it out and get new shrubbery planted along with some grass seed.
Of course, I won't scream too much if they feel I need some elegant garden setting applied to my yard. I'll figure out how to maintain it. If they build it . . . I will come. . . and mow it, or prune it, or fertalize it.
(to the tune of Rawhide!)
Mowing, mowing, mowing
Keep those mowers going
Cutting down the grasses so high
Rain and wind and weather
Birds nests and lost feathers
Wishing my mower would self drive
Hope no spots I’m missing
While the mower’s kissing
Each blade of grass on it’s quiet ride
Cut ‘em down, chop it up, mulch it all
Make it nice, Mower!
Count each pass, push uphill
Push around the rocks and rills
Cut ‘em down, chop it up, mulch it all
Make it nice, mower!
Keep it mowin’ mowin’ mowin’
Though tough grass is showin
Keep them blades all sharpened
Mowing!
Can’t try to speed right o’er them
Just cut and chop and mow ‘em
Soon we’ll be looking low and tight
My mind’s calculating
My new mower’s waiting
It’s waiting at the end of my week
Mowin’! Mowin’
April 19, 2008
April 17, 2008
The Inward Vessel
Do ye suppose that God will look upon you as guiltless while ye sit still and behold these things? Behold I say unto you, Nay. Now I would that ye should remember that God has said that the inward vessel shall be cleansed first, and then shall the outer vessel be cleansed also. (Book of Mormon Alma 60:23)
As I have been pondering upon the meaning of this passage as it relates to my day to day, it reminds me of something my Momma said quite a bit during my growing up years. "Sweep around your own doorstep first before you start criticizing about the need of sweeping at someone else's door!"
Why is it infinitely much more comfortable to point out the clutter in the life of someone else than to spend the earnest effort in clearing away the cobwebs and dust of our own?
I fully realize that part of the conditions of mortality involve the striving to overcome self and the natural man through the diligent application of the Word of God. It will sometimes hurt to go through this process since most of the time, it is SO much easier to see where SOMEONE ELSE must change rather than casting that all searching glance in my own direction.
It doesn't seem like much progress is being made on that front.
Without realizing it until the burden is relieved that I have been carrying mountainous heaps of burden (whether intentional or otherwise), it seems that the emphasis on what I should be doing is obscured by the clouds of unrighteous intention in the direction of other people. I didn't intend it to be that way, but it is, nevertheless, a factor in my mortal journey that makes me at once both uncomfortable and ashamed.
As a vessel, I am neither clean on the outside nor, more importantly, on the inside. And when it comes to the All-Searching Eye of Him who's creation I am - there is a certitude that it is what He sees in the inner vessel that matters the most.
There are times, be it individuals, groups, or nations, in which that honest appraisal of the inward doings and inward beliefs becomes more important that any other single activity.
Without the introspection and sincere thought upon what I can and should be doing to make my life, the life of my family and the quality of the Spirit which I am willing to allow to pass into my home and heart undiluted , there is no real progress.
It's like walking on a treadmill. While "something" is happening, it may not be the right something that can make all the difference in the way my life turns out and how that turning affects those both close to me and those who are simply watching to see what I might do as a self-proclaimed witness of Jesus Christ.
If what they see on the outside doesn't mirror what goes on within, then the term hypocrite most certainly applies.
Likewise, if I can be counted honorable in my deeds during all activities, then it should also be worth noting.
Reality seems to be more willing to take notes at those times when I am less than at my best. Is that fair? Daddy always said 'there ain't no such thing as fair'.
So, as I continue the chores around my house, I am compelled to realize that the reflection of my life is mirrored in the only measure available to mortal man - the outward appearance. While God may indeed understand the quantity of my heart, He cannot possibly look with favor upon the quality of heart when I do not willingly offer Him a cleansed inward vessel.
Just a few thoughts while I begin dusting the house . . .
As I have been pondering upon the meaning of this passage as it relates to my day to day, it reminds me of something my Momma said quite a bit during my growing up years. "Sweep around your own doorstep first before you start criticizing about the need of sweeping at someone else's door!"
Why is it infinitely much more comfortable to point out the clutter in the life of someone else than to spend the earnest effort in clearing away the cobwebs and dust of our own?
I fully realize that part of the conditions of mortality involve the striving to overcome self and the natural man through the diligent application of the Word of God. It will sometimes hurt to go through this process since most of the time, it is SO much easier to see where SOMEONE ELSE must change rather than casting that all searching glance in my own direction.
It doesn't seem like much progress is being made on that front.
Without realizing it until the burden is relieved that I have been carrying mountainous heaps of burden (whether intentional or otherwise), it seems that the emphasis on what I should be doing is obscured by the clouds of unrighteous intention in the direction of other people. I didn't intend it to be that way, but it is, nevertheless, a factor in my mortal journey that makes me at once both uncomfortable and ashamed.
As a vessel, I am neither clean on the outside nor, more importantly, on the inside. And when it comes to the All-Searching Eye of Him who's creation I am - there is a certitude that it is what He sees in the inner vessel that matters the most.
There are times, be it individuals, groups, or nations, in which that honest appraisal of the inward doings and inward beliefs becomes more important that any other single activity.
Without the introspection and sincere thought upon what I can and should be doing to make my life, the life of my family and the quality of the Spirit which I am willing to allow to pass into my home and heart undiluted , there is no real progress.
It's like walking on a treadmill. While "something" is happening, it may not be the right something that can make all the difference in the way my life turns out and how that turning affects those both close to me and those who are simply watching to see what I might do as a self-proclaimed witness of Jesus Christ.
If what they see on the outside doesn't mirror what goes on within, then the term hypocrite most certainly applies.
Likewise, if I can be counted honorable in my deeds during all activities, then it should also be worth noting.
Reality seems to be more willing to take notes at those times when I am less than at my best. Is that fair? Daddy always said 'there ain't no such thing as fair'.
So, as I continue the chores around my house, I am compelled to realize that the reflection of my life is mirrored in the only measure available to mortal man - the outward appearance. While God may indeed understand the quantity of my heart, He cannot possibly look with favor upon the quality of heart when I do not willingly offer Him a cleansed inward vessel.
Just a few thoughts while I begin dusting the house . . .
April 16, 2008
What Time Is It?
When days like this start, I know it's going to be a struggle to make it to suppertime.
While I am no expert on this particular phenomenon, I do have enough experience to qualify me for the merit badge.
I looked at the clock wrong this morning. You might have experienced it. That horror that the alarm on the clock didn't go off and you are now running horribly late for life in general?
NO? Seriously, that hasn't EVER happened to you?
Well, lie down and put a cool cloth on your head because your fever has made you delirious.
So, with a hip that hurts and wakes me up to tell me it's been in one place for far too long, I looked at the clock.
Horror stricken at the numbers on the display, I threw myself out of bed and grabbed my fleece robe to compensate for the loss of the electric blanket. Practically running to get Jared ready for school in order to make the bus on time, I hurried.
Then, after the panic was subsiding, I looked up to see the clock on the stove glowing green numbers that, I swear, were LAUGHING at me.
Waking up disoriented and dyslexic are indeed challenging. The numbers on the clock in our world are read left to right. I must have been looking at a Hebrew Timex in my sleep because I read it RIGHT TO LEFT hence the panic.
Did you know that the time is different that way sometimes?
So now I sit with the beginnings of a migraine induced by stress.
And how is your morning?
While I am no expert on this particular phenomenon, I do have enough experience to qualify me for the merit badge.
I looked at the clock wrong this morning. You might have experienced it. That horror that the alarm on the clock didn't go off and you are now running horribly late for life in general?
NO? Seriously, that hasn't EVER happened to you?
Well, lie down and put a cool cloth on your head because your fever has made you delirious.
So, with a hip that hurts and wakes me up to tell me it's been in one place for far too long, I looked at the clock.
Horror stricken at the numbers on the display, I threw myself out of bed and grabbed my fleece robe to compensate for the loss of the electric blanket. Practically running to get Jared ready for school in order to make the bus on time, I hurried.
Then, after the panic was subsiding, I looked up to see the clock on the stove glowing green numbers that, I swear, were LAUGHING at me.
Waking up disoriented and dyslexic are indeed challenging. The numbers on the clock in our world are read left to right. I must have been looking at a Hebrew Timex in my sleep because I read it RIGHT TO LEFT hence the panic.
Did you know that the time is different that way sometimes?
So now I sit with the beginnings of a migraine induced by stress.
And how is your morning?
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