The Outsider: All you do is moan, moan, mow
|By Will Jones - The Outsider | June 15, 2017|
As I get older, I’m taken, from time to time, to reminiscing about times gone by. I can be doing anything and be anywhere when a memory is sparked and off I’ll go, jabbering to anyone who’ll listen or simply mulling over my own mundane stuff to myself.
Now, reminiscing is a fine thing to do if sitting on a porch with a drink in hand, or huddled around a fire with friends but I find that my memories flash back at the most inopportune moments, oft when stopping to stroke my beard and when pondering may not be the best idea.
Take last Sunday for example. There I was leaning hard on the push lawn mower, sweat pouring off me in Niagara Falls-like torrents, an assortment of bloodthirsty insects hovering nearby awaiting their turn at the already crowded human filling station. That was when I remembered the first article I wrote for a Haliburton
newspaper – The County Voice – seven years ago. The missive that I’d penned then was a harrowing tale of a young(ish) man who’d emigrated from a big city far away and landed in Haliburton. All was well for the first few months of his stay. He enjoyed the winter and was thankful for the coming of spring but when summer
rolled around and nature roused itself from a chilly slumber, the young(ish) man realized just how much back garden he’d acquired and fretted as to how he would cope with its upkeep.
The story was a woeful one of how this young(ish) fellow toiled to mow his lawn, the sweat rolling off him, the bugs feasting ferociously upon him. Hour after hour he mowed. Pint after pint of blood and sweat he lost. How had he not foreseen the hell that is hidden in the joy of owning a garden bigger than most English counties.
The young(ish) man’s mistake was a fundamental one. He followed in his old dad’s footsteps and purchased a push mower. His first mower no less and one that would have handled his father’s postage stamp sized English lawn with aplomb. And to that end, he was very proud of his new mower, until soon after beginning to cut his gigantic lawn for that first time.
Now, the more astute of you may see where this story is going. You may even have worked out who that young(ish) and relatively handsome chap was. But here’s the kicker. As young(ish) men get older they are said to get wiser and that would be wonderful. The story would end with an older fellow being proud of his new ride-on lawn mower, with anti-bug force field.
However, what tends to happen is that with greater age comes a fair amount of stubbornness and as such, the true end to the story is still being played out because this (now not so) young man is still pushing that same lawn mower. He hates it and he knows what the solution is because he’s taken to reminiscing, you see.
The trouble is that remembering the days when a certain young boy was forced to mow his parents’ back garden will not make his own son grow any quicker and it looks like he’ll be pushing that mower, sweating like Niagara Falls and feeding the carnivorous bugs for a couple of more years yet.
WILL JONES - is The Outsider