Today it's time to talk grass! No, not the kind you smoke. Since I've never done that, I have no material for a presentation of that kind. I'm concentrating on the grass that grows outside my house.
We live on a golf course, therefore about 5:30 a.m., the first thing I hear is the sound of mowers sprucing up the course. No birds chirping for me, just mowers. After eight years, the sound reassures me that life continues to move on.
This morning and approximately every five to six mornings, I'll hear my husband or a neighbor mowing their own yard. This is not the unusual part of this discussion. This sound of a John Deere begins the chain reaction of about five other men racing to the garage to retrieve their tractors to begin the parade of the lawn mowers.
Just picture in your mind, six men racing around their yards trying to out do the other guy in length, design and speed in which a yard can be completed. Periodically, one, two, three or four of these gentlemen head toward the grass dumping area, as fast as they can go, in a parade formation. The sight of these gardeners doing this all at the same time, is a sight for sore eyes. Bonding, I believe they call it.
We only have one gentleman who is not allowed to join the parade. You see a year ago, this neighbor borrowed a spanking new John Deere and accidentally drove it over a five foot wall. Thank goodness the neighbor had only minor injuries, but the tractor was deceased. A memorial was left, in the spot of departure, for over a month. His wife and other neighbors decided his lawn was better suited for a push mower.
Signs of Life continue to pop up here daily. I love to get up in the morning to see what is going to happen next.