Funk-B-Gone

9:33 AM

Our house sits on a lot that is just a smidge over an acre. Which means that our yards - front and back - are sizable. And taking care of them is a big job. Fortunately for us, my brother Zach lives down the street and owns a super-duper lawn mower that he lets Kyle borrow. And riding on that mower, Kyle is able to rather quickly mow down the tall grasses that spring up and threaten to turn our lot into a jungle.

However, the one thing Kyle hates to do is weed-eat. By the time he's done mowing, who can blame him? But it bothers me to see weeds hugging the bases of our trees, sprouting out between the flower bed borders, creeping across the edges of the driveway or just generally ruining the precision which a lawn can be! Bear in mind that I am not only of the Type-A perfectionist persuasion, but I also grew up with a family which birthed and raised several lawn mowing companies, and so, a perfect lawn was often the subject of discussion. Imperfect lawns the subject of much verbal abuse. This is what I bring to the table. What I do not bring to the table are any lawn manicuring skills of my own.

So I am useless when it comes to doing anything constructive about the situation at hand. Until now...

My brother Zach (probably conspiring with Kyle) suggested to me that given my perfectionist, analytical nature, I might enjoy learning how to weed-eat and edge. Lame-brain that I am, I say, hm, you may be right. Kyle silently (or not so silently) cheers! So this past week, Zach and Anna walked down the street carrying his weed-eater and some ear covers. And he proceeded to patiently demonstrate and instruct me on the art (and I do mean art) of killing weeds and edging a yard. It takes some practice!

Fortunately, I have a yard made for practice. So as yesterday dawned bright and sunny, I pulled on my long pants, I-pod, sunglasses and headphones and spent about 5 hours working over my yard. I'm not kidding. I came in a few times to eat and feed August, but the majority of my day yesterday was spent in very therapeutic form of activity: weed-eating.

With my I-pod set to shuffle, I basically blocked out the entire world and concentrated on learning how to skillfully maneuver a weed-eater. I have MUCH to learn. My edging skills are atrocious, but by the end of the day I was beginning to feel more comfortable with the whole thing. And although I left the fallen weeds lying willy nilly about the place (for lack of a blower), I was DEEPLY pleased with my handiwork.

And for the first time in several days, as I came in the house - TOTALLY covered in grass clippings - head to toe - there was a spring in my step and a lightness in my heart. Who knows whether it was a healthy dose of Vitamin D or just the solitude of working hard in my yard, but yesterday, I felt around internally for the funk and it was nowhere to be found.

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