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The Race


It’s been raining a lot here in Western Kentucky. A whole lot. I’m not complaining. My yard is green. We could be in the middle of a drought, and that would be worse.

I never had a nice yard growing up. I lived on a farm and our main focus was on growing crops, not yard grass. Whatever green that popped up in our yard was called grass. Dandelions were grass. Chickweed was grass. Rabbit tobacco was grass. When I came of age I cut the grass, whatever it was.

Deep inside me I knew there was something missing. I knew there had to be more. I’d seen a few pictures of yards in those magazines Mother got in the mail once a month and I thought that perhaps one day I would have a yard like one of those. A lawn, not a yard with surprise vegetation popping up here and there.

Well, I grew up and several years ago my wife and I were able to move into our forever home. One we had always hoped for. One with a landscape lawn birthed from a farmer’s soybean field that someone turned into a subdivision. I planted every single tree, shrub and flower. But my first priority was to have a lawn with real grass, not weeds. And I do. A lawn care crew I contracted comes out five times a year to fertilize the yard and treat for weeds and grubs. I like my yard.

Yesterday it finally stopped raining long enough for me to pull out the mower and start pushing.

Since my back surgery I am no longer allowed to ride a mower, so I push the half acre lot. I don’t mind. I take my time and I consider it my personal gym. The ground beneath the grass was still wet from all the rain. My feet were soaked. The grass was a little higher than normal and I found a baby Mockingbird trying to hide. I’d been out there sloshing through it for just over an hour when I noticed I was not alone.

The lawn care guy was out there hoofing it, spreading fertilizer behind me faster than I could push. I shut the mower off, looked at him and asked, “Would you like for me to quit and get out of your way?”

The young man grinned and said, “Heck no. I want to race!”

I stopped mowing, sat on the patio and took a break until he finished.

As I sat there I reflected on the yard we had growing up on the farm and the lawn I have now. I’m thankful. Wet, hot, tired and thankful.

I’m too old to race. The kid was out of there in no time and I went back to pushing.

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Rick Algood
May 22, 2020

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