Lawn Mowers as Girl-Bait

Eight days ago, a Saturday, I took my Honda walk-behind but self-propelled lawnmower to Ace Lawnmower Service for maintenance.  I needed the blade sharpened, the oil changed, and whatever needs to be done with it every year.  The people at Ace were so backed-up with work, however, that they told me it would be over two weeks before the machine would be ready.   I left the mower with them anyway

Ace was very busy that Saturday morning, as it is every Saturday morning.  It is open upon just until noon on Saturdays.  A lot of people think as well of them as I do, and it seemed like all of those people were there that morning, waiting in line with me.  As I waited, I reflected on an important truth: the grass was probably going to continue to grow while they had my mower, and we are still in the once-a-week mowing season, even though the days are growing shorter and the rains have just begun to back off.  What was I to do.

Before I left Ace, after having given them a deposit, I walked around their small showroom and looked at the tools, including new lawnmowers and other equipage of a well prepared gardener.  They have really good stuff, because, clearly, a very large portion of their revenues must be from professionals.  Those professionals would range from the mow, blow, and go guys so beloved in  Miami Springs to the  people who are hired to care for gardens as I would want mine cared for.  As I was looking at the tools and equipment, I was wondering what I was going to do about cutting my lawn while my mower got its makeover.

Then I fell in love.  I saw one of these on the cramped showroom floor:

This is an Exmark, commercial walk behind.  What particularly fascinated me was that while Exmark is a US manufacturer, the engine is a Honda GXV 150.  Although the photo shows a red-body, the one I saw had a black body, which is cool, don't you think?  It also has a huge grass-catching bag: 2.5 bushels.  And the gas tank will take a full gallon of gas.

As I went through the process of rationalizing a possible purchase of this wonder, my mind went to the big pick-up truck commercials that support the TV network broadcasts of fall football.  A lot of guys must buy those things, as I mentioned to my friends at our weekly, all-male Starbucks session yesterday morning.  I observed that if guys were buying those big new trucks in what must be incredible volume, then why would I not get the Exmark?

One of my brothers at Starbucks observed that those big trucks are "girl magnets" that men purchase to lure young women into situations that would deny these men forever the opportunity to serve on the Supreme Court.  I had never thought about those trucks being girl magnets, but suddenly a picture popped into my mind.  It showed me cutting my grass with a brand-new Exmark, pursued by a throng of Miami Springs housewives. That picture was more disturbing than pleasant, which is I guess is what happens when one reaches age 72 and is not Senator Biden.

In any event, I left Ace that prior Saturday morning without buying the Exmark.  My plan was to ask my buddies from Starbucks if I could borrow one of their mowers to get me through.  I brought it up yesterday during the discussion of pick-up trucks as girl-bait.  One of the guys said his mower was a "piece of junk," that I wouldn't like it, and he was reluctant to offer it.  One of the others offered his mower, but as he described it to me, it sounded very much like a piece of junk too.  But he offered to bring the mower over, help me to get it started (because it was not easy to start), and maybe stick around, since it probably would not cut the whole yard without quitting at least once.  He even offered to cut the grass for me with that mower himself, which I thought was very nice, but not satisfactory.

So I went on line to see who rents lawn-mowers.  I found, of course, that Home Depot rents all sorts of equipment, including lawn mowers.  They had both a push-type power mower and a self-propelled, walk behind mower, similar in design to my Honda, but not a Honda, a Toro.  I could rent the latter for $24 for four hours.  Solution!  Over I went to the HD in East Hialeah, near Okeechobee Road and the railroad track (the same railroad track by which once lived Johnnie-and-Mack, but that's another story.)  An HD employee in the rental-equipment section and I lifted one of the self-propelled Toros down from a shelf.  He pulled the starter rope, it cranked right up, and we had a deal.

When I brought the mower home in our vintage 4Runner, Carol helped me lift it out and put it down on the driveway.  (Thank you, Crossfit.) She took a close look at it.  One of the most immediately disturbing things she noted was the grass-catcher.  It was liberally sprinkled with what my mom used to call "stick-tights," those things that are actually weed pods (the kind of round ones) and spikey seeds (the thin pointed ones), representing the evolutionary struggle of the plant kingdom as it seeks to take over the surface of the earth in such an unruly way that the Lord was forced to create Man to help him deal with it in what one of the the Lord's friends described as a "garden" in the Book of Genesis.

So, it took us about 10 minutes to pick these things off the grass-catcher, short-circuiting a clever plan to transform my yard into a weed-patch.

Then it took about 20 pulls of the starter to get the thing started.

Then, ominously and seriously disappointing, the self-propelled feature simply would not work.  This was something I did not test at the HD.

But rather than return it and start all over again, I decided to push it around the lawn.  It cut pretty well - the blades were still sharp enough to cut the grass cleanly.  There was at least that.  But what an effort it took!  I took several times-out in the process, but I got it done.  During the mowing process, I usually let my mind range over a number of different topics.  But this time, I focused on the letter I was going to write to Home Depot.  I went through several articulate and hard-hitting drafts in my head about how Home Depot had rented me a piece of junk.

When I took it back, I brought the problem to the attention of the HD equipment rental person who had helped me in the first place.  He went to his manager about it.  The manager came over, cranked up the machine, and then pulled the lever that was to propel it.  It did not work, of course.  I kept my cool.  I told them calmly that I was disappointed.  I perversely hoped that they would tell me that I could have brought it right back in, but since I didn't, well, tough luck.  They would do nothing.  What a great way to close my letter to the president of HD, with that sort of "customer service."

Instead, the manager refunded me $20.75 of  the $25 I had obligated myself to pay. He did so in a clever way.  He went back and redid the deal, so that he showed that I obligated myself to pay him not just the $25 but also a $2.50 "Damage Protection" fee.  Then he deducted $20.75 from the charge, and so my out of pocket was about $9.00.  True, I didn't "damage" the unit, but it was so clever, that I cooled off and let it go.

Back at the house, I sat and watched some football.  When I got up, I felt what I usually feel after a good Crossfit session.  Pushing around that mower as the bag filled up with cut grass, I had received quite a work-out.  I notice that my heart-rate elevated during the mow appropriately.  I got a $9 dollar training session - and a grass cut.  It was all really very good.

But the lawnmower was still a piece of junk.  I saw no girls, except for Carol, and she was already hooked and well in the boat.

So, How Does that Garden Grow?

It is summer, and the garden grows, everything in it, higher, faster, each element with its own imperative, seeking to be unruled and unmanaged.  Because it's summer we get "faster," but because it's life, I'm reminded, everything else.

Just cutting the grass burns about two hours a week, at least the way I do it.  That time would include not just the mowing, but the edging along the sidewalks, driveway and streets, and sweeping.  There are set-up and take-down tasks as well.  It takes time, and it is very hot and humid.

I will use a grass catcher and will not skin the grass to the earth's scalp.  The grass catcher is to catch not just the grass clippings, but the weed tops.  By not dropping the blade closer to the ground (dropping and skinning would add several days to the interval between cutting, which is tempting but to be resisted), I encourage the St. Augustine to grow thick and healthy, thus crowding out the weeds.  So that's the "how" of how that element grows, the turf.  I attempt to grow my garden in a managed way, with  lots of close observation, time, and sweat.

As far as I can tell, none of my neighbors takes personal care of the family yard.  Businesses known as "lawn services" take care of their landscapes.  These services consist of two men, usually, but sometimes three.  They come in a pick-up truck towing a trailer, usually an enclosed trailer.  The trailer holds their equipment, the major piece being a riding mower.  Each side of the trailer is a sort of billboard, announcing the name the business, often the owner's name with "landscaping" following the name, and a telephone number.  These services appear to be single owner enterprises, the owner driving the riding mower.  His associate or associates tend to the edging, usually with a weed-eater and not with a blade-edger.  There are no grass catchers and there are no rakes or brooms much in evidence.  The services deal with the debris that falls on the sidewalks and drive-ways with blowers, blowing the debris out to the street, where the wind will, in a day or two, blow it all back, some back into the family's yard and the rest on everyone else's.

(The lawn services have an interesting ecological impact that the owner of a top-notch lawnmower shop told me about years ago.  The lawn services spread seeds from yard to yard, because they don't "catch" the clippings nor wash their equipment as they go.  Your weeds, then, become your neighbor's weeds and the weeds of your neighbor's neighbors, and so on.  Several years ago, a new homeowner to the west of us re-sodded and landscaped his yard.  He is a young man and vigorous.  Going against the tide, he mowed the lawn himself, and I recall he caught the clippings.  But then he gave it up to the lawn services (he bought a big boat), and now, as I walk by his yard, it is full of crabgrass and other weeds in great variety.  The lawn is kept very closely and regularly cut by his lawn service and, from a certain distance away, it looks neatly maintained.  But I know.  I know.)

As I drive to work each business day, early in the morning on the Palmetto expressway, I see dozens of lawn service rigs moving with me southbound: towing vehicle, sometimes a van, usually a pick-up truck, but sometimes an impressive small dump truck, which would allow that  service to haul away its lawn debris, and the trailer.  These businesses are predominantly Latin.  In Miami Springs, the going rate seems to be around $55 right now.  They seem to be able to do the basic job in about 40 minutes or less, given the size of the yards in our neighborhood.  It is a cash business.

We use a professional service to help us to manage our trees (a very large oak tree in the back, a black olive tree near our driveway at the front, a gorgeous sea grape tree on the west side of our house, and some smaller palms).  They also spray our lawn with herbicide and insecticide on a monthly basis.  These people have given up lawn maintenance, because of the cheap competition from the lawn services I describe.  But their managers have deep knowledge of Florida landscaping, and I have gotten to know one of these men over the years.  Each year (before hurricane season, preferably) we will walk the yard together as he assesses the tree-pruning needs, and the gentleman will talk to me about lawn-care science.  He calls the lawn services that work on the neighbors' lawns, "mow, blow, and go" services.  In other words, you get what you pay for.  Surprise.

Once upon a time, the families in Miami Springs did the yard work.  Dad, mom, and the kids. Especially the sons.  Often a neighbor, being an eyewitness to the competence of one of the boys, would ask the boy to mow the neighbor's yard.  It would provide the boy-becoming-a-young-man with a little income.  Now and then, the young man would turn that work into an after-school business.  By the time of his graduation from high school, he would have accumulated a significant amount of money, not to mention significant business expertise of all sorts.  But whatever the eventual outcome of the boy, the families handled the yard work.

Now they don't.  Across the street is a very attractive family with three boys, all now teenagers.  They use a lawn service.  Once when I was working in the yard in the summer's heat, the mother came over and expressed concern over the effort I seemed to be putting out, and gave me the number of her lawn service.  I confused her.  I could read her mind: Wasn't I a lawyer with better things to do? 

Here toward the end of the summer I find myself having worked my way almost completely around the house, edging, pulling weeds and grass, and mulching,  But as I complete that first circuit, I see that the St. Augustine has shot its forces into and among the mulch that I first laid down weeks ago.   There is plenty of metaphor fodder here.  Stay tuned.

Hello to the Springs Gardener

Two years ago at our house, we had a professional landscaper renovate the lawn and shrubbery.  For maybe eleven years or so before then, our lawn, especially the turf (St. Augustine grass) gave a sorry look.   This mainly resulted from a renovation of our house at the start of that eleven year stretch.  We made the kitchen larger, more pleasant and functional - including the installation of a new window over the sink that offers a view of South Florida's gorgeous sunsets.  Off that new kitchen, we built a fourth bedroom with its own bathroom, and we put a roof over the back porch that had simply been "screened-in," as we say in Miami-Dade.  That little bathroom for the fourth bedroom, on the west side of our house, a bit toward the SW corner, required a trench for a service pipe, a trench that went north along the west side of the house, around its NW corner, and headed east until it met the main sewer line that came from Dove Avenue, the east-west street that our house faces.  What a mess all that digging made, not only digging for the trench but also for a foundation that needed to be laid for the  new bedroom and the back porch that adjoined it.  (Don't ask why that porch didn't have a foundation, but, as we discovered, was just a slab spread on the ground.) After the trench was filled in on the west and front sides of the house and the foundation dug and constructed on the south side, we completed the rest of the upgrade.  All that trench and foundation work tore up the lawn, and I did nothing much after we finished the project to make the rough places plain.  I even gave the yard up to a crew of grass cutters of the mow-blow-and-go variety.   I didn't realize how bad the outside looked until, two years ago, the professional landscaper, to whom I gave more or less carte blanche, did his good work, and I saw what a world of difference it made.

But all that good work created a much higher maintenance demand.  Either I had to improve my relationship with the lawn and shrubs (hereinafter referred to as "the garden") or I would see the look slide into mediocrity or worse.  And I was a Springs boy, having lived in this town from a tiny baby, taking absences only for college and law school, a year in New York City, and a year in a duplex east of the Gables, until we bought our first house back in the Springs.  A Springs boy takes care of his own lawn, and makes it at least better than average.  Furthermore, we had invested hard-earned cash with the landscaper, who pulled up all the grass and weeds, covered the ground with rich dirt, and then laid on top big squares of new St. Augustine, adding all sort of plants around the base of the house and along the back border of the lawn, lovingly surrounding those plants with a flatbed worth of 2 cubic feet bags of brown mulch he had trucked in.  This would take a lot of work to keep up, and what was I going to do?

One Biscayne Tower - Thanks a Lot, Joe!

I had learned, however, the secret of good landscaping maintenance from a friend, Joe.  Joe is a building engineer for a tall office building downtown, known as One Biscayne Tower.  It had great landscaping around its base, and I asked Joe if he would give me an insight into how he had arranged to keep it so beautiful.  He drew closer to me, and lowered his voice.  "Paul," he said, "the secret is a crew that shows up at 5AM several mornings a week to pull weeds, trim, transplant and replace the shrubs, cut the grass, water, fertilize, mulch, and pick up the trash.  That's the secret."

Thanks a lot, Joe.

So, this blog post is an introduction to my story of trans-planting Joe's secret to my new garden.  Personally.