The grass in the pasture was four feet tall while most of the lawn had stopped at around eighteen inches or so. The fellow who mows the yard at the church just up the road agreed to bushhog the place for us. Boy howdy, did that make a difference! For the first time this year, the place on the hill looks like someone might care a bit about it. The whole two-and-a-half acres could use raking and baling but we may have to settle for something less than that. Maybe we can burn it off next spring…

Between now and then, we’re going to try and see if we can’t turn the forage right around the house into something that looks more like a lawn. With the baby sleeping, the mower wheels set at their highest cutting and the temperature in the low nineties, Susan gave us a start on that Tuesday.

If you’ve ever tried to cut really thick, really tall grass, you have a pretty good idea of what she was doing. Every foot is a battle of sorts: the thick sod resisting the push of the wheels and the grass resisting the push of the blade. Instead of a steady onslaught, Susan had to force the mower forward, give the motor and blade time to work through, and then push on again. An hour of that sort of effort produced a thick mat of chopped clippings and a more even section on about one-tenth of the yard. By that time, Daniel was awake and one of the wheels had come unjointed, making the mower almost impossible to push. After another two rounds, Susan decided that her part of that particular project was done for the day.

Fortunately, she was able to rest for a while by strapping Daniel into his backpack carrier and priming the siding on the new horse shed. While Grandpa shoveled out a trench for the foundation block, Susan sang and painted in the shade of a pine tree. Daniel went to sleep, soothed by the sounds and motions of his mother’s nearness.

When we have learned to hear and feel our Father’s closeness, we experience a similar peace and comfort, whether we are working or at rest.

H. Arnett
7/30/10