Snow and Mulch

This morning I walked through fresh snowfall on my porch. Tonight, I mowed my lawn for the first time this season (swerving around a few lingering snow piles in the shade of the pines). Never have I done these things on the same day.

Some local blogs have been abuzz with lawnmower stories; I'll add one of mine. We moved into this house around Christmas in '99. The following spring we were looking to buy our first lawnmower, having been appartment dwellers before that. While driving home one day, I saw a used push mower for sale in my next door neighbor's lawn. It was a well-worn but solid looking Simplicity. He wanted $50 for it, which sounded fine to this poor grad student.

The first time I cut with it, it worked like a dream. On the second outing, it stalled mysteriously in the middle of the backyard. Since my neighbor, a retired mechanic, had told me he'd be glad to fix it if it went bad, I wheeled it over to him. Turned out it needed a new piston and some related gadget; he said he'd fix it for the price of parts. That was about $70. Got one more cutting out of it, but the time after that, it refused to start. Once more to the neighbor's. This time it was beyond his help, and I took it to a repair shop, where I learned it would take a couple hundred bucks to get it running again. As that was well toward the price of a new mower, I declined. Happily, they told me if I let them keep the mower for parts, they wouldn't charge me the $35 inspection fee. It was theirs.

My neighbor felt bad about the way his mower had worked out and offered me my money back. I graciously refused, saying I knew it came with no guarantees. Probably some weird male pride. I think he was a little hurt that I wouldn't take it.

Bought a new model from Sears, and being a bit spooked by previous experiences, paid for a three year service contract. Sure enough, each of the first three years I had the mower, it had a breakdown requiring a trip to the service center. In the two since, it's run fine. Do I hear three?

Three days until I leave for the trout opener. I equivocate almost hourly about where I'll fish or camp.