Yesterday was another one of those fall days we Ohioans dream about when drowning in a week filled with rain, rain and more rain. When we woke to the promise of sun and relative warmth, the world came alive…people who had spent the week hibernating indoors flocked to the farmer’s market, sat outside enjoying conversation at the local coffee shop, and speculated on the possibility of a final lawn mowing.
Two of our neighbors got out the power saw and tackled an ash tree that was threatening to topple from one of their yards to our roof. We watched. And smiled.And cheered.
This is not to say that we did nothing. We busied ourselves by cleaning out the gardens, picking some herbs for drying, picking some sage blooms for an indoor display, taking a large load to the dump. Oh, and yes, we discussed (okay, argued) about the morning glories that have infested not only every flower bed in the yard but also have somehow insinuated themselves into my herb garden. Let me just say I did NOT plant them.
THEN it was time to mow. I distinctly remember our conversation of two weeks ago when we got out the mower and I tactfully suggested that perhaps it was time to consider purchasing a new mower. Understand, this is no fancy mower…it is but a small, sturdy, 6 HP, Briggs and Stratton self–propelled mower. Or at least it used to be self-propelled. But hey, it powered up right away that day and we happily split the mowing.
Yesterday’s scenario was just a little different. The hubs powered up the mower so I could get started on the back yard. Then it died. More specifically, a necessary chunk (including a fan, I think) fell off. This is where things got a little dicey. I made yet another (useless) suggestion that maybe we should see if our favorite local hardware still had any mowers in stock.
The family mechanic (and I use this term loosely and with tongue in cheek) insisted he could replace the flopping chunk. He popped it back in place. It flopped back to hang off the side.
This time, I had the solution. We would duct tape it into place. Guess what. It worked. The lawn was mowed and — assuming we have no more weeks of constant rain – we won’t mow again until spring.
We ended the day at a party, where a friend and I discussed the merits of duct tape. Laughing in only the way she can, her comment was, “Well, heck, if Bob fixed all those airplanes with duct tape, it should work fine on a mower.”
I may never fly again.