Tis the season for grass cutting. I love the smell of freshly cut grass. It takes me back to early fall, back to back-to-school season, early September. Cross country season. Hurricane season. Ah.

My dad taught me how to push a lawnmower at the ripe age of nine. My favorite lawnmowers are the old school gasoline-fueled red ones with the black handle and the string you have to pull to get them started. I made a few bucks on the way from nine to 21 or so, cutting grass for neighbors. After I got married, my husband took on the role of cutting the grass. It’s something I seldom do now. That’s unfortunate because I really love cutting grass. When my brother, a Marine, ships off, I go to his house and mow the lawn for him. So about three times a year, I mow grass. It’s strangely blissful, like snorkeling above water.

I’m a wiser grass cutter than I was at nine or even at 21. I now wear sunscreen and drink plenty of water when mowing. I even wear hearing protection – in the form of foamy purple earplugs often used by people at gun ranges. Yesterday I got to mow my brother’s lawn. It took all of 30 minutes on a July afternoon. The heat index was around 100 degrees at 5:30 pm. But I lathered on some sunscreen, put on the sunglasses and hat, and wiggled the earplugs in. The world became mute around me save the peaceful hummmm of the mower. I unscrewed the top lid and poured in gasoline from the plastic red container. Then I pushed the soft button on the side three times. Lastly, I pulled the cord back, like doing a dumbbell row. I began pushing the mower.

I was careful to consider water moccasins that could have been hiding in the stack of branches behind the garage. They would have blended right in. And what about ground wasps by the bushes and along the sidewalk? What about ticks hanging out in the tall grass? I thought about a diabetic patient who was recently walking barefoot in his backyard and stepped on a nail. I kept my eyes out. As I walked through the thick green grass in the backyard, I thought about previous summers of grass cutting. I thought about how fast summers fly. I thought about old friends, Taylor Swift songs, and work. I thought about what my brother was doing. I used to always get a song stuck in my head when mowing the grass, but yesterday there wasn’t one. I simply enjoyed the sound of the background hummm and my thoughts. I didn’t even carry my cellphone. Sweat dripped down my back and forehead. I enjoyed walking through the thick green grass, pushing that red mower.

When I was a kid, I’d wrap the day up with ice cream. Ice cream doesn’t call me like it did as a kid. At the end of it all yesterday, I gently wiggled out the earplugs and returned to life as usual: the sound of traffic, the AC unit, and the like. I swept the driveway and sidewalk clean of grass clippings. The air had that slightly sweet, fall’s-coming-but-it’s-still-a-million-degrees-out, freshly cut grass smell. When I got home, I pulled off my shoes and socks. I appreciated the dirt ring around my ankles and few grass clippings on my shins, thankful to have dodged water moccasins, ground wasps, ticks, and random nails.

I hope life never gets so advanced that we no longer have the pleasure of cutting grass. It’s a great escape and I enjoy it so much I’d do it for free. ~