And yet there was no choice. My surgeon had forbidden me to pick up anything that weighed more than ten pounds or to sneeze (seriously!). For those of you who are practitioners of the manly art of mowing, you know both of those are required.
Thus I was sidelined for the bulk of the season.
This was a bitter pill. It was a hard thing for me to watch her mow the lawn in my place. She was stealing my raison d’etre, my very manhood. And besides, you really can’t see the yard all that well from the recliner in the family room, especially when the TV is on.
And yet, loving wife that she is, she did her duty. She mowed through June; she mowed through July; she mowed through August; and she was even prepared to mow through September, but I forbade it. I had to reclaim my spiritual salvation and my manly rights.
Besides, the weather was getting cooler along about then.
And so I started the season and finished the season.
Then we got a surprise visit from NALM.
I was terrified. NALM is like the IRS: It can’t actually police everyone, so when it catches violators it hits them so hard their grandchildren can feel it.
They walked around the lawn with little notebooks. They examined the periphery which I always ignore but for some reason my wife paid an inordinate amount of attention to. They interviewed a random sampling of the neighbors.
At the end of this process, they continued the accreditation of the lawn without comment. This is their highest rating. I was taken to the side and told that my lawn had never looked better.
No mention was made of my lawn’s spirituality. No mention of the health benefits for myself and my community. It was all about looks.