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Saturday, April 17th, 2004
9:26a - Mowing the Lawn, Pandemonium Style


While all the pastures would not even do a close-clipped green proud, the yard has reached ankle length in places. We need RAIN. As usual.

So, I'm standing at the water tank watching it fill, pulling long tufts of grass and passing it through the fence to various eager mouths when it hit me! I never replaced the (admittedly broken) lawn mower that got stolen! I COULDN'T shorten the grass.

"In the wake of the thunderstorms with all that moisture on the grass, at the temperatures we are scheduled to have, it will feel a bit like summer." croons the radio announcer.

I glance at the clear blue sky and wonder what she's been smoking. This is FM, not noted for its long range. 75 miles as a (sober) crow (on a serious mission) flies to the studios, but the transmission towers are closer.

Well, I guess that's not so unusual. I've had three inches drop on Promise City in 30 minutes, wash out gravel under the roadbed in places, drive the six miles home and find not a drop has fallen here.

Coqet comes. I rub her pregnant belly a bit, feeding her, when the idea gains more credence. I cut her out and slam the gate on Cariñosa, right behind her, closely followed by her yearling son and three year old gelding. The rest of the herd looks, ah, decidedly disappointed, but the flowers are blooming, and the apple tree actually has some buds on it. (I think I lost the peach tree.)

She starts businesslike chompings it heartens my heart to hear. I coax her timid daughter Crem out a smaller gate. She falls to immediately. They settle in and the herd eyes them sorrowfully, following them on the opposite side of the fence. Chime joins her daughter Omnia teasing Raven. No way they're coming out across the low fence from Debut.

The tank has another four inches to go. I relent, allowing the geldings and mares not in heat out. Debut is ecstatic, wickering enticingly to all and sundry, regardless of receptivity or sex... He's one lonely puppy. Alice starts over. I watch to see if she's in heat, or just friendly. She crops short of him, then turns away, eating steadily.

Me? Oh, I'm HAPPY. I have 23 individual cut/water/fertilize units working over the grass, even in those hard to reach places with STONES underneath while I sip a cool, tall, glass of water and type.

Maybe if I advertise several non-reproducing automatic grass cutters/waterers/fertilizers for sale, I can move some hungry mouths into loving homes. They look pretty as lawn ornaments. Some even come colored sort of like Easter eggs...

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