Alanea White

Friday was supposed to be a warm day. So, Thursday evening I decided it would be appropriate to try my hand at mowing the grass in our yard. 

Now for nearly my entire life I have lived either in a rental property or in a place where someone else has been responsible for lawn maintenance. Apartments, usually don’t come with assigned mowing areas.  

A family emergency took the household’s usual lawn maintenance crew out of state, so this was finally the week where it was my turn to take care of business. It is not common knowledge in these parts, but I am really not the type to enjoy being out of doors. The sun burns my skin right out of the front door and I tend to get teary eyed if I get dirty. There is a family story about mud pies that involves me crying for an hour AFTER I was clean. Several weeks ago I happened to touch my very first earthworm; outside is not a thing that I really do. 

But the grass needed trimming and I was there to do it. Assembling a crack team to make up an impromptu grounds crew I headed to the garage. This crack team was all occupants of the house and included a 9-year-old diabetic who weighs about as much as a push mower.  There were two options of mower, looking back I picked the short straw of the bunch when I selected the push mower. My justification was I was really not in the mood to look up a speedy YouTube refresher course on powering up and driving our riding mower. 

The 9-year-old and I wheeled the push mower to the starting line and were off, as a team of two. In all honesty if there was a way for just the 9-year-old to heave the mower around the yard I would have let him, unfortunately he couldn’t push the thing solo. 

At one point we looked at each other and both agreed that we hated mowing. The mower died on us twice and we ran over one small frog, but the section of lawn that we chose was mowed before we called it a night. 

The next morning we finished up our handy work, remembered that we hated mowing and then set up the pool in the yard. 

While the lawn may not look pretty on close inspection, or be up to par for any sort of mowing enthusiast, the grass was cut and the small frog was the only casualty. Through the process I learned turning corners with a push mower is tricky business, 9-year-olds are pretty handy assistants and that I was correct in my original thought of not being an outdoor person. 

Alanea White is the editor of the Moose Lake Star-Gazette. She can be reached by emailing

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