Beware the wet grass

I seem to recall that in a fairly recent column, I stated that I refuse to mow wet grass. Wet grass does not like to be mowed. It clogs up the mower. It causes the mower to choke down sometimes if you’re going too fast. It’s messy. It’s a bother.

This leads us to a recent morning when I looked out the window and realized the grass needed cutting. Usually, the day of a rain, and even the day after a rain, is too wet for cutting, by my standards. But it had rained “the day before yesterday,” which, I thought, was a whole different deal.

So, without taking a look at the yard, I got out the mower and cranked it. I then put the mower onto the first foot of lawn and the actual situation hit me. The grass was wet. Practically sopping. How did this happen?

It hadn’t rained overnight, as far as I could tell. There were no puddles in the places where there usually are puddles the morning after a rain. So I figured it might have been a big morning for dew – dew can get pretty wet sometimes.

Given the wetness of the grass, there was only one realistic solution. The logical thing to do, given my feelings about mowing in general and wet grass in particular, would have been to turn off the mower, put it up, and do my mowing on another day.

For some reason, however, I felt stubborn. I had already gotten the mower out, checked the oil, added gas, and risked serious back injury by yanking that cord. “Doggone it, yard,” I thought to myself, “I’m not going to be defeated by you. Not today.”

So I went about cutting my grass. Much to my quick dismay. Everything I said earlier about mowing wet grass happened, and a few other things as well. All this I realized once I had cut too much to stop.

You know what that’s like. If there’s anything that looks worse than a yard that needs mowing, it’s a yard that’s only partly mowed. It wasn’t the kind of mowing I usually do, in sections, but organized in a way that doesn’t look all that bad. This was, however, a partially mowed section, and yep, it looked bad.

I had, in effect, mowed myself into a corner. I couldn’t stop.

Eventually, somehow, I got it done. And I re-learned a lesson I already thought I had learned well enough, until I let my own stubbornness take over.

Anyway, I, with my re-education firmly in my mental grasp, now say this to one and all: In the future, I will check the yard for wetness before I even walk to the shed, before I check for oil, before I add gas.

And even if I don’t see a lot of moisture, if I have any reason to be suspicious, I won’t mow. If I see one drop on one blade of grass, that will do it. If I think there might have been one drop that fell off a blade of grass, I will not mow. If I think that there might be a single drop of water thinking about hanging around in my yard, I won’t mow.

Earlier this summer, when we were practically having a drought, it was much easier. Now, that we’ve actually had some rain occasionally, I realize I have to be more careful.

Oh, well, sometimes you need a reminder of just why it is you do certain things – or in this case, don’t do certain things. I got my reminder. I hope I don’t have to wait until the heat of the day for the dew to evaporate, or my yard may end up resembling a jungle.

•••••

By the way, the day after I wrote the first part of this column, it happened. I walked outside, realizing that the yard needed cutting. I felt a few, tiny drops of rain. No mowing that day, for sure. And I stuck to it. Hope the neighbors don’t start signing petitions.

•••••

Something else has happened. I finally got a thank-you note from Mama Cat, thanking me for saving her brat – er, kitten – from the grill of my car, an act which netted me several bruises on my arm.

Well, actually, anyone who knows cats knows they don’t send thank-you notes. And that’s not just because they can’t write. Cats aren’t particularly grateful critters.

The note I got was from a reader. I figure this reader would just as soon stay anonymous, so I won’t give the name. It was signed “Mama Cat,” but the return address on the envelope was a dead giveaway.

It was cleverly written, from Mama Cat’s point of view, and was probably the cutest response I’ve ever gotten to a column. I’m going to save it.

Thanks for the note, “Mama Cat.”