Been There, Done That: Simple pleasures in yard maintenance

I finally found time in my schedule to do some weedeating in our one-acre yard. I weedate? weedeated? weed-whacked? OK, trimmed for over an hour and still only did about half the yard. I tanked two arms, two cold refreshing beverages and two batteries in the process.

Yes, batteries. I have a small battery-powered trimmer. It’s just my size and starts every time with the push of a button. The guys pick on me for it. They say I should use the gas-powered ones. No thank you. I watch them pull the cord and adjust this, pull the cord and adjust that. Pull the cord and swear a little, pull the cord and throw it down. Yeah, that doesn’t work for me and it doesn’t get any trimming done, when I finally have time to do some.

We have a big battery weedeater, too, but it’s a bit much for me. The handle is too long and it’s a lot heavier than my little one. Plus, it’s a lot more powerful than mine. The guys say I should be using it instead. It would cut down on the time it takes to get things accomplished. Probably, but the length and weight of it are a deterrent. And, I’d have to dress for it — long pants and work boots — because it can really make stuff fly.

My little one couldn’t hurt me if it wanted to. I usually wear long pants, but like jeggings or thin long johns, and Crocs. I definitely wear safety glasses – well, glasses anyway. I can never find safety glasses that aren’t all scratched up and sunglasses are too dark, since I usually weedeat in the evening after work. I like to use those yellow glasses that are supposed to be for driving at night. They brighten everything up and make it look like a Kodachrome picture from the ’60s.

Since I only weedeat about once a month, whether it needs it or not (lol, it needs it), I try to do different areas each time. Better than not getting to some areas at all. It is kind of addicting once I get started. I get into a rhythm and just move from one section to the next and the next, until something stops me. Like I need more string — pop the reel off, pull out more string and pop it back in. Then watch out, it goes like it’s one of those big ones until the string adjusts itself to length and levels out.

Or, something else stops me, like my cold, refreshing beverage runs out and Dave has to bring me another one. Or, the battery dies and I have to go get the backup.

But it is kind of nice turning around to see where I’ve been and how nice it looks. Almost makes me understand my mom’s love for ironing — turning this into that is rather satisfying, although still not enough to make me do it more than once a month.