When Joe and I were first married we received what I believed to be the ultimate guy gift: a John Deere Lawnmower. We lived in town at the time and had a beautifully landscaped yard. Joe would "farm" our yard, keeping the grass at the perfect height, trimming around all that needed to be trimmed, even pruning the bushes and fruit trees that bordered our neighbors' yards. He loved to farm our yard.
When we moved to the farm, however, the lawn got to be more like a meadow, at times reaching Anna's knees when she was a toddler. The trees planted to replace the 20 that were knocked down by a tornado 15 years ago (why did we wait so long. . .that's a family mystery!) were planted by a local nursery. As for the landscaping. . .well, it's nonexistent.
As a town kid, I had a preconceived notion that all farmers love all plants, those that are marketable as well as those that are just aesthetically pleasing.
Just this morning, Joe was recalling that his dad and grandpa never mowed the lawn, and how happy his mom and grandma were when he and his brother were of lawn mowing age. I have never reached this said age, due to an unfortunate run-in with a culvert at age nine and was banished from the family's lawn mowing endeavors (a cross I happily still bear). Why wouldn't a man of the land want to make our own little patch look better? Why wouldn't he want to be a good steward of landscaping and plant some DANG bushes???
We have had a string of really nice days, followed by some rainy ones. Thus, the grass is greening up and the purr of lawnmowers can be heard in my parents' neighborhood in town. Not so much here. While the husbands of my town friends spread mulch, plant flowers, leaf blow, and trim, I sit and wait patiently for my husband to blow off the dust of the once pristine lawn mower, and try to not to lose my youngest in the meadow growing around our swing set.