About that lawn
I admit to being intimidated by all that red clay surrounding the house. So much potential for mud. The simple cure would be to “put down” a little lawn, except that there’s a preparatory stage that will prove hard on the system. Ache in the muscles, ache in the joints.
This afternoon, we went down to the lower part of Montague, to see if there was another simple cure; paying someone to do the job, using the best mechanical technology they could bring to the party. Had to stop for a quick map download, but by and by we pulled into a large yard, filled with machines. The owner was out. So was the co-owner. The man who had the answers was there, though. Charlie. And with his tie to the boss, by cell, I learned that a long winter plays havoc with the calendar of those who dare to grow.
Fully six weeks behind, they are. The owner offered to stop by sometime next week, with the proviso that I expect nothing in return. They’re too busy right now. Maybe by fall… I don’t dream of rolling in the grass, anyhow. Or learning the skill set necessary to pilot a small tractor up and down and around. Don’t own one, yet.
At this point, we have no idea about the costs involved. My aversion to chiropractors suggests that almost any price would be fair. And if they don’t get here until autumn, I can get that tractor just in time for Christmas.
