So, I owe a huge apology to the Husband. I tried my hand at using a riding mower on Sunday.
I won't even post pictures, because they are too humiliating. I mean, mowing a lawn is supposedly an unskilled labor, right? I've been mowing for years, using a regular lawn mower. It isn't rocket science, right? Wrong.
Riding mowers are hard. They don't turn on a dime. They turn on a huge curve. And the edges of that curve don't get mown. So, you are left with a lawn that looks a lot like modern art.
Maybe that is what I am doing wrong. I need to approach this as though I did it all on purpose.
The overlapping paths are meant to symbolize the way our lives overlap in this world of billions of people. The un-mown areas represent the paths we never took, a la Robert Frost. The straight lines are few, because we as humans seldom keep a steady course--we are influenced and nudged slightly by even a few bumps in road. The odd single blade that continued to keep upright even after three passes demonstrates those goals that we never achieve, and inspire us to tackle other goals before making another attempt, but ultimately teaches us that some goals are ultimately out of reach. The graceful, curving lines of grass that remain un-mowed remind us that, just as we cannot truly appreciate a door without the door frame, neither can we appreciate a freshly mown lawn unless we remember what it was before.
Other artists work in clay, in oils or watercolor, photography and fiber.
Not me. My medium is grass.