The grass is always taller

The Grass is Always Taller...

...on your side of the fence. This year the grass is cutting teeth (without a smile).  Last year drought, this year deluge. It's like each grass blade is a Sequoia tree on steroids. My walk behind mower knows it's a suicide season. Its motor knocks like a team of bill collectors on straight commission. My brush hog knows it's a lost cause. Its tractor is as dead as roadkill. I won't say I'm dreading the mowing job, but a backward colonoscopy might be more inviting. The small patches I tackled first are already on a third cutting. Might as well row down the south Atlantic ocean and across the Amazon river in a bath tub toy boat. Sure a fresh cut lawn is a sign of civilization. But this year I may have to settle for urban jungle. Looks like there's no escaping the inevitable. What's grown will cause me to groan. Nature is great.  But right now, the only good grass blade is the one underneath my mower blade.

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