The Grass Is Always Greener When You Mow Your Own Grass

Of the projects my husband and I have completed in the last couple of months, there is one that sticks out to us the most. Now it is rather surprising, at least to us, that this one project should be as tiring as it is inspiring. I thought when I hung the homemade "G" wreath on the front door that it was officially our home. I thought when we painted the living room brown that it was our home. I thought when we moved the last box in that it was FINALLY our home. I was wrong. Those were mere distractions from the truly HOME-defining moment that awaited us.

See those straight lines!

We were glad to see that the front yard had been mowed especially for us on April 15th. We were even understanding of the jungle growing in the backyard on April 15th. (You would have to be. One step on the side of the house let you know it was the Rain Forest back there.) While we waited for solid ground to appear over the next few weeks, we bought our lawnmower, our weedeater, a quart of oil, a container of gas, and even made a trip to town for gas. Justin was apprehensive about the yard. He had never weedeated before, and a bad experience with the mower as a child left him cautious of it as well. One too many experiences with weeds slinging out and stinging my legs had left me weary of the weedeater, however I did know how to mow. It had just been a really, really, REALLY long time since I had actually mowed. Truth is, until we have kids, neither of us even intended on going out in the yard. Nevertheless, three weeks after we moved into our house, Justin and I doned our jeans and shorts and short sleeve shirts and headed out to work. We weren't outside 20 minutes before my head was pounding. Justin looked perfectly content with his weedeater, and I felt bad stopping him just as he was getting comfortable. I didn't mean to, but my ever-protective husband took note of the mower stopping and followed me inside. It wasn't the first break either. We stopped to raise the mower, lower it one inch, lower it another inch. We stopped to give the mower more gas. We stopped when his battery ran out in his weedeater, and then we took turns with the mower for a few minutes.

View from our front door

Oh, and when all the grass was cut, we complained about the mud that we had brought in the house. We complained about the battery in the weedeater and its short lifespan. We complained that it was hot. We even managed a newlywed "discussion" on the right ways and wrong ways of mowing and why I am "OCD" when it comes to blades of grass. It took us nearly 45 minutes to find our way to the shower after we were through, and afterwards we were too tired to continue talking about anything. We both thought we would fall asleep in the 5 minutes it took us to find salad mix in Brookshires that afternoon, and then my husband argued he wasn't even certain he was hungry enough for a salad when we got home. (Look, it was salad or roast. I was tired too, but we had to eat and at least I was calm and logical enough to think of making a salad instead.)


All of that said, when I looked outside after dinner, I smiled. This house was officially home that day. I laughed at my own stupidity. While my parents and brother and sister would all read this and say "Duh, Paige!" right about now, this was all a surprising revelation to me. I hadn't gone 10 minutes into mowing our yard before I began thinking of the possibilities that awaited us outside. I looked at the shed in the back and thought "We need to paint that. It needs it.". I walked back and forth past the large tree in the back corner and thought longingly "We need two chairs back here- just two- to cool down on days like today." I frowned at every blade of grass we missed. (I am totally my parents' daughter now.) I smiled at how nice it all looked afterwards. This was home.

View from under our tree

While we may have begun to mow our yard for the first time that day with no more reason than that it is simply what you do, we finished with a completely different outlook on the entire task. We fell asleep happy that night. We had talked ourselves crazy, noting what we could do better, what we could do next time. We spent at least a week backing out of the driveway with pride as we looked at our yard, and then we both ran hands through our hair watching it grow back and being flooded out of our yard for another two weeks. When Saturday rolled around this past weekend, we practically ran out to the yard. We had a game plan- together. We were prepared. We weren't mowing our grass because it was expected. We were mowing our yard because it was ours and you take care of what's yours. You take pride in your work. You sweat and get sticky and go inside every 30 minutes or so to lay on the cold, hard floor in your house, listening to your heart pound in your ears as you cool down. With your hand you pluck the rebellious tall blades that mock you as you pass by because after you have just spent the last hour or two (or however long it may take) working to make your yard look pretty, you will not forgive or overlook even one blade.

Sunday afternoon, we made a trip to Target. There, we found our new mat for the front door. The one before was so worn that it brought in more dirt than it kept out. This one is happy! My husband even laughed when I bought a broom just for the outside. I told him I hated spending all that time mowing to make the yard look pretty, only to make our walkway look like an abandoned path.

We were taking a picture to show my sister I could actually not match. Our new mat is under me!!!

Oh, and what can I say? I owe my parents a huge thank you and one large apology. I am sorry to say I may have sort of, kind of, more than likely, definitely been a yard work snob in the past...especially when I was about 15 and they were trying to encourage me to volunteer to mow. Not only did I never volunteer for a lesson, when they finally made me learn, Daddy was incredibly patient. Disappointed as I know they both must have been with my grim outlook on the entire affair and my vanity and the foolish idea of how I thought it made me look, they ignored my pouting and complaining and kept me in the family anyway. Trust me, I was born to the most loving family on earth. If they hadn't pushed me to learn and been patient at that, I would not have a clue how to take care of our yard. In fact, I may have just not tried for fear of looking stupid (which I would have succeeded in doing, I'm sure). I wouldn't have known how to help show my husband and I would not have been so patient with him if someone had not been so patient with me a long time ago.

View of our backyard. See that tree just definitely needs two chairs to cool down in on hot days!

I tell all of this to say, our house was just not truly our own until we ventured out into the yard. Our little inside-selves have actually begun discussing outside sports in the backyard. The idea of sweet tea under the tree in the backyard sounds much too tempting for us now. We are no longer thinking "Well, after we have kids, we'll put in...". No, no, we are thinking now. We are thinking of how to enjoy our hard work more often ourselves. If you have deprived yourselves of the joy in looking after your yard, I encourage you to rethink this. It is worth every minute, we think.
Happy Cutting!
-Paige
P.S. Justin's grandmother shared a tip with us. Salt kills weeds. I'm heading outside in a few days to pour a little rain of salt on our culprits in the driveway to see this for myself. If it works, it will save us some money & spruce up the concrete as well.