& Free Trip to Margaritaville
I was recently mowing the yard. This is usually a half to full-day project, depending on whether I just mow our half-acre lot or decide to mow the extra couple of acres we call a pasture. This was once just woods, but my brother Jon decided our daughter needed a horse. That led to the pasture. The horses…well that’s another column.
In most normal households when a hurricane is coming, people gather supplies and batteries, etc., etc. Not us. I don’t know why, but in our house when a hurricane is coming, we have to mow the yard. My sweet husband will forget to take down hanging baskets and leave multiple possible projectiles on the front porch, but the lawn? It’s got to be done!
I think it’s because we are so busy, we live in a deadline-driven world…a constant state of what has to be done today? (Ask my designer when she got this column!) Because of that, it always seems as if hurricanes only hit our area when it’s time for the yard to be mowed. And since my sweet Wes can’t abide the thought of grass continuing to grow while it dries out enough to mow – mow now we must! I cannot think of one time since we have lived here and a hurricane was in the gulf that Wes said, “Great! I have already mowed!”
So, as I write this column on my phone, I am sitting in our driveway watching hubby as he works underneath the mower. Why? Because the pasture REALLY needing mowing, and yours truly jumped in to help–but I hit some barbed wire hiding in the tall grass.
So…I am providing moral support, keeping out of arm’s reach just in case that sweet man decides he wants to throw something at me, and waiting patiently for him to untangle that mess. I mean, we know we have a magazine going to press in two days, but the hurricane arrives tomorrow. For 2020, that sounds about right.
Until next time,