Green Grass

In an attempt to improve my once-per-week rate of posting, I shall write something today, Sunday, as opposed to tomorrow.

I cut the grass today. It's part my responsibilities as a renter. My wife and I pay quite low rent on an apartment we love, so when our landlady asked us to take care of the yard, we said yes. The yard is really quite ratty. It's more weeds than grass, but if it's all the same length it has a certain passable presentability. "I don't care, just so long as it doesn't look like a jungle." was our landlady's response to our questions about the particulars of lawn-care. I bought a push mower because I like the quiet and have a small yard, although as I'm sure I've written before, you have to stay on top of the lawn otherwise the push mower is a lot of work. Today was the first day of the year that I mowed the back yard. The grass and weeds were way too high, and it took hours to do what normally takes me forty minutes. The blisters on my hands demonstrate the effort I put in.

The experience brought back memories for several reasons. First, the smell of the cut grass evoked seemingly forgotten scenes in a way that only smells can. Second, I was listening to Physical Graffiti. I was never the biggest Led Zeppelin fan, but the music was so much a part of my teenage years. WBCN would play a Zeppelin track at midnight, and if I was still up doing homework, I could shut off my own stereo, open the window to my bedroom and hear other stereos all over my blue collar suburb tuned in, and blasting Zep. It was like some teenage call to prayer. Again, it wasn't that the music had any deep meaning for me, but that it was everywhere. The words "Led Zep" crossed with the "Led" vertical, and the "Zep" horizontal, so that they shared an 'e' was spray painted on everything -- sidewalks, walls, cars, I suspect that if you walked too slowly someone would spray-paint Led Zep on you. 

The experience differed.  As a kid I used a gas mower and my push mower is so quiet and understated in what it does. When the grass isn't too long, the view of the blades whirring in their revolutions makes one think of an electric paddle boat accelerating down a wide green river, churning the grass into the air. As an adult I like the the look of the neat rows and the sense that all that grows in my yard is even, at least in height anyway. With minimal effort I get to bring arbitrary order to something that did not, and soon will not, have any.