Culture observation

Here’s a thing.

Rarely do you see a Californian mow their own lawn. Yards tend to be small. There are drought resistant plants taking up portions of the space, but I’m not sure I know anyone with their own mower. It’s a service. We inherit a gardener from the people before us. Yard work is a business. There are professionals. It’s not about wealth, even the smallest of yards in every kind of neighborhood has a gardener. Even people who garden, have someone.

Here on the East coast it is not at all unusual to see an eighty- five year old home owner mowing their half acre lot. Grass grows easily here, so there is no shortage of it. Not everyone owns a riding lawnmower either. It’s November and cold, but still the grass needs to be mowed. I’m not able to tell when, I think it’s a weekly thing, but has to be worked in around the rain, so it’s not like every Tuesday. Even the time of day varies. The grass looks almost identical after as it does before. Up close you see the tell tale lines, from a distance, it’s the same. Okay for some lawns it looks greener and more tidy. Today we get to mow and rake leaves and I confess that it’s something I’m looking forward to.

I have memories of my father and most of the neighbor fathers out on a sunny Saturday morning mowing their lawns. This became established in my head as a male dominated activity. One that was followed by a cold beer and the rare moment of sitting in a lawn chair in the shade.

I remember the smell of cut grass. The peace around a happy satisfied father admiring his work. These are fond memories from my childhood.

Since arriving on this coast, I have yet to see a man operate a lawn mower. Is it the opposite of my childhood? Is this a female dominated chore nowadays?

When I first saw my mother-in-law mowing in her cute outfit and make up. Not a hair out of place, I tried to help. I could not believe everyone was okay with her doing this.. She seemed to have a particularly quick turn around. I think she mows every three days. I learned that it was a self propelled mulching mower so the effort was mostly in keeping up with it, but still.

On this chilly November morning I can see some neighbor women out mowing and mowing and mowing. It’s purposeful work. There seems to be some pride and joy in doing these kinds of things. I tried it. It wasn’t terrible. There are things no one tells you that everyone assumes you know, (they will have a good laugh as you learn and then share that laugh with anyone who missed the comical moment)

I miss California so much. The good feelings of peace I used to feel, I miss hearing the mowing sound, that fresh grassy smell, has now been replaced with a less comforting stress. Mowing has nearly lost its charm. I’m hoping that by combining it with raking fall leaves, I’ll rekindle some fun nostalgia. I know it’s a long shot.

I liked my California life.. I like the way I stayed busy. For some reason, and I know to others it’s odd, I felt my purpose ‘fit’ and my version of purposeful ness made sense. Here, I don’t know about anything.

I guess the mowing is yet another reminder of how much I wish I could go home. I wish I could BE home. I wish this segment of life could be a tiny bit less ungrounding. I am hungry for the nurturing, warmth of my own kitchen. Its exhausting being out of the loop on everything. It’s been a long week after many long long weeks of judgement and misunderstanding. This new development has cast a dark shadow and intensified everything.

It’s why we are here. I keep reminding myself of this, but man, it’s no cake walk. I knew it wouldn’t be,but yeah…