I looked up at the grey skies and sighed. The rain is supposed to come back tonight. After being spoiled by sunshine and beautiful blue skies, it’s a little hard to accept our usual sodden gloom. I looked outside at my lawn and sighed again.
“You really need to cut it.” I told myself.
“I can’t mow the lawn now” I replied, “It’s only the second week of March.”
“The lawn is overgrown, it really needs it. Besides, most of the neighbors have started mowing theirs already. It’s not too early.” I sighed once again, this time in resignation. “And” I added, “You grilled last night. It’s time.”
So I hauled Old Red, my trusty mower, out from her resting spot in the garage. I unfolded her handle and filled her tank with gas. I pushed around the garbage cans and down the cobbled path to the back yard. Tugging open the gate, I pushed her through and positioned her on the back walkway where I always start mowing. I have no idea why, but I quickly pushed the little black rubber button on the side of the motor as I was originally instructed when I got Red. Then reached down to yank the gas pull…I nearly pulled my arm off.
The pull refused to budge. I tried to gently coax it to loosen up by spraying it with lubricant and pulling it back and forth. I may have sworn at it a bit before hunting down a screwdriver to open her up and peer inside to see if I could figure out the problem.
I took me a while, but I finally figured out the difficulty. Old Red knew that it was only the second week of March and simply wasn’t ready to get to work yet.
“Wake me up when it’s spring” I imagined her grumbling at me.
“Fine Red” I said, “we can wait another week or so. I don’t have a problem with that.”
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