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Bliss, Thy Name Is John Deere

Ah, the simple pleasures!The mobil mower repairman came today. He fixed my John Deere tractor mower. Angels could be heard singing, "Hallelujah! Jalapenos! Guacamole!" When I got home, I jumped on it, and it fired right up, its loud hum thrilling and hypnotic. Intending to just drive it around the house from where it had died, and tuck it into the garage, safe and dry beside my convertible and weight bench, I fell under its powerful spell. Once I get on it, I can't stop. It's seductive. "I'll just mow a little while I'm on it. Just a bit. It's so nice and cool now that it's dark out, and I do have headlights." An hour later I'm high on the smell of fresh cut grass, and in love with watching the weeds disappear, leaving only neat rows of thick, healthy-looking grass.

When you have horses you see grass differently than other people.It's food. It's sustenance. It's life itself for a horse. On our trip to Montana this June, the thick-bladed, emerald green, knee-deep grass was so awesome I brought back baggies of it for the horses to taste. I can't even look at a green field without considering what the horses would think about it, or how it would be to gallop through it.

Mowing is a meditation for me, sailing the sea of grass.Hours go by, and usually I lose all sense of time, eventually run out of gas, and have to go get the gas can. Tonight I forgot that I came home with groceries, and hadn't put them away yet. Later I remember them after the spontaneous mowing. They were still in the car. The milk was tepid and the lettuce was wilting. But the grass is liberated from the choking weeds. It can grow again!

I bought this mower with a former boyfriend seven years ago. He was such a John Deere officionado, I gave him a subscription to Green Magazine, the John Deere fan magazine, for a gift once. Some guys pore over that magazine like others do a Playboy, or like you do this website. He never would let me ride the mower, so I had to get rid of him (I still love him but he should have let me ride it sometimes. I only grazed the fence posts. It didn't hurt anything. So what if I didn't always get out the compressor and blow all the grass off the mower platform.) When we split up, the biggest point of contention was who would get the John Deere. I laugh now, but it was serious then! I bought him out and he got a new one.

The old girl's not as pretty as she once was, but I don't care. Her cracked hood, and wonky, wobbly seat don't obscure her true beauty. I get irritable at her for needing more visits from the mower doctor now that she's older. The glee once she's fixed makes up for it. We've spent many happy hours together, just us, and many of the ideas you see on this website were born out of her steady hum on a cool night. Like they say, "Nothing runs like a Deere!"


PS - If you were thinking about writing me to give advice on raising my vibration about the old boyfriend or how to stop judging the aging mower (I do get such emails), please call 1-800-GET-HUMOR. If you have a great sense of humor and would like to donate it after your death to help an unfortunate individual whose own sense of humor was damaged or removed, please call 1-800-GIV-HUMOR. I have donated mine on the condition they promise to keep it exercised and never let it atrophy from reading too much serious spiritual stuff.

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The heart knows truths the mind cannot fathom, eyes cannot see, and rationality cannot prove.
Lola Jones