Relative Something

Those of us who love having trees in our yards enjoy an ongoing demonstration of how much branch-shedding is regularly happening. There are always sticks and twigs landing on the ground beneath the canopy. Often there are finger-sized branches down. Occasionally, we find bigger branches in the mix, and every once in a while, a full limb drops.

I admit to subjecting the blades of our mowers to far more sticks and small branches than they deserve due to the sheer volume always hiding in the grass. When I wait too long between mowings, the number of branches gets too big to ignore. We’ve endured several days of on-again, off-again rain that stymied my plans to cut the grass around the house as soon as I wanted. Before I finally got around to the job yesterday, I needed to pick up sticks.

It doesn’t look that bad through a camera lens, but grasping each and every one by hand is an exercise of repetitive motion. Every time I turn around, I seem to find one that got missed. A wiser person might use a rake.

There is a mental reward for taking the time to clean up before mowing: peace of mind from not abusing the mower blades.

Of course, peaceful mowing is blissful mowing. And now the backyard is looking rather sharp (and stick-free) after yesterday’s cut if, I do say so myself.

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