90% Weed Free

Today at lunch my wife Michelle expressed to me (read that as complained forcefully) that the rest of the family doesn’t help out enough in keeping our landscaping weed-free. She certainly bears the brunt of the back-breaking work- bending over pulling weed after weed, one at a time.

Its no small feat. I would estimate that we have somewhere around 2000 square feet of landscaped area. Estimating between 1-2 new weeds per square foot, per week, you can do the math and realize quickly that’s a heck of a bunch of weeds to bend over and pull out.

We took two cars today. We had to split up after church so Michelle could take one of our girls to a birthday party on the other side of town, and I had some errands to run (the dangerous trip to Home Depot where I traditionally spend 10X more than I intended).

After the complaints about the lack of help, I decided after lunch to head home and surprise her.

Its 3:30PM, and after 3 hours of weeding, we’re about 90% weed free. I really don’t think we can get too much cleaner than that- there’s always tomorrows weeds just under the surface of the mulch waiting for a new day to break free.

Fire Onboard

There is a feeling of real panic when the grass on your mower catches fire 500 feet from your house and you have no expendable liquid nearby to quench the flames. Even my bladder was empty.

It happened again. It was just over 5 years ago that I nearly burned up my “neighborhood” when dry grass touched my mower engine and caught fire. This morning, it was slightly different. The dry grass was packed tight into the mower deck, and the friction from the rubber belt and metal pulleys started the fire.

I smelled it first- that crisp burning “something’s not right” smell. I pulled over, got off the mower, and saw smoke start pouring from the mower deck. I did the only thing I could think to do- I grabbed the burning grass with my bare hands and pulled it out. Miraculously I wasn’t burned or hurt at all.

I took of my flip-flop and smacked down the flames, as well as smothered the smoldering grass in the mower deck.

Disaster averted. Lesson learned. Again.

Now We Know: Cowkillers

We discovered a new bug-neighbor last summer running at a fast clip across our driveway.

Its kind made a sudden appearance again just a few days ago. It’s a frightening looking bugger- a giant ant-like thing with shockingly bright red velvet fur interlaced with black. A good inch long and very aware of its surroundings.

When we approached the few we’ve seen, they turn, look up at us, and triple-time it at a full-on run across the ground to get away. When you get close to them they make a weird clicking sound and seem to get rather agitated.

I found out this morning what they are- Cowkillers. There’s a great website called http://www.whatisthatbug.com/ that identifies creepy crawlers for you. Just send in a photo and get a quick post to your photo telling you all about the bug. I used Google and searched “black red furry ant bug” and bingo- there was a gorgeous portrait of our new neighbor. They are actually flightless wasps.

Why are they called Cowkillers? Apparently because their sting is so painful, it is said to be able to kill a cow. It wouldn’t actually, but I can see a parent a hundred years ago telling that to his little boy to keep him away from the attractive little killers.






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Houston, We Have A Problem

A few weeks ago Michelle and I had a great idea- we would buy one of those portable canopies to put out by the pool. The unbearable hot sunny days were just starting, and while getting in the pool was refreshing, some days the sun is so searing even the pool water heats up like a warm bath.

I reasoned that if we got one big enough we could shade a portion of the pool as well as the patio. It was a great idea. I set out that very day to Academy Sports to buy one.

I bought the largest one they had- a 15 foot behemoth of a canopy with the special easy-set up system. It worked almost like an umbrella. I slid it out of the case (with built-in roller wheels), set it by the pool, and extended the aluminum frame after slipping the canopy cloth over it. I had it fully extended and shading me in under 5 minutes.

It worked beautifully. It shaded a good portion of one side of the pool, plus provided a great area on the patio to place our lounge chairs. We had it made in the…well…shade.

Everything was great until the disaster. About, oh, 48 hours after buying it.

Michelle and the girls were out shopping, as usual, and I was home readying to mow the lawn. I went through my usual preparation: Full gas cans- check, water-check, cigar-check, hat, sunglasses, goggles and particle mask- check, sunscreen- check. The Saturday tradition looked to be quite enjoyable this day as it was unseasonably cool and breezy. I headed out after deciding on my flight plan- this week I would do the cut at an angle running southwest to northeast and would start in the front.

I was making great progress running the mower at full speed and flying across the expanse of our front yard and enjoying the strong breeze that was hitting me every few seconds. The sun was bright, the cigar well seasoned, and the grass brightly green. “How could it get any better than this?” was what I was thinking when something caught my eye. My brain processed it somewhat quickly- something was moving near the house, and since no one was home, that just shouldn’t be.

I looked fully in the direction of the movement and was mesmerized. Our brand new giant canopy was hovering several feet off the ground and moving across the lawn. It moved so gracefully and purposely that it seemed someone was controlling with a remote control device. I stopped the mower and stared. Wow- that’s cool! I think that’s what I thought right before an updraft caught it. When the updraft caught it, I thought one other thing- I suppose I should have used the spikes and tie-down rope that came with the canopy.

It soared. And I mean SOARED. It shot straight up like a rocket, very fast and very stable. It reached above the treeline with plenty of blue sky between. I estimate the craft reached an altitude of somewhere between 60 and 75 feet high when something went terribly wrong. The wind died.

I felt it before the canopy did- the wind and weather at our house usually moves from west to east (like almost everywhere in the world I guess), and I was due west of the launch pad. I had great hopes that the canopy would, when its fuel ran out, float down gently like a parachute. I was greatly mistaken. As the breeze ended, the canopy stilled itself, and then tipped over and plummeted to the ground like a bullet, upside down and rushing to its death. It hit the ground and exploded into dozens of pieces of broken and twisted aluminum and plastic. It looked like a downed 747.

As I rushed to the crash scene I had grand hopes of saving the $75 I spent by trying to string it back together with various materials from my workshop in the garage. I even had a fleeting thought about taking it back to Academy Sports and telling them it was defective. When I arrived and saw the destruction I knew it was all over. My very next thought was wondering if Michelle would ask me why I didn’t anchor it down when I told her about it, and what I would say.






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A Major Miracle

Just over a week ago I wrote about a small miracle I witnessed- a little ant that could. Today, a huge miracle of biblical-proportions occurred.

Michelle and I were able to enlist (as in slave-labor) our four girls to help pull weeds in the yard. It was no easy task. We did our best to make it as fun as possible (plenty of water, pool breaks when we got hot, a boom box outside pumping Switchfoot and Relient K songs, etc).

To say our yard has a large mulch area in which to pull weeds from is an understatement. When we get mulch delivered we have to get a semi-truck to deliver it. Seriously. It takes a full semi-truck and trailer worth of mulch to cover the area 2-3 inches deeo. A truck pulls up and dumps the mulch into mountains around the yard from which we spend a few weekends pulling from to cover the landscaping area.

The girls were troopers- they did a great job! Well, not actually. They moaned, complained, got bit by bugs, took too long to return from pool breaks, moved at a snails pace in the hot sun, and generally complained that life was not fair. Michelle and I think we should make it a weekend tradition.






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7 Out of 7 Means Death For Weeds

Finally! The perfect combination of variables occurred this morning at 6:30AM that I have been waiting for all spring. I finally get to fertilize and weed the grass with the Scott's Turf Builder that has been sitting in my garage since November:

1) Temperature at least 60 degrees.

2) Temps not hitting over 80 degrees during the next 24 hours.

3) No rain expected in the next 24 hours.

4) Wet lawn (from either rain or dew).

5) Lawn at least 4 inches high so weeds are bloomed and showing.

6) Lawn not too high as to touch the bottom of the spreader.

7) Calm day- no wind.

Surprising how hard it is to get all those to come together.






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Me Man

There are times when I feel like a real man. I know that being a real man is to be a man of integrity, purpose, to devote oneself to God and others, to defend what is right and good, to love and provide for one’s family. Those are all good things no doubt…but the things that REALLY make me feel like a man are sometimes less noble than those.

Building things out of wood, sitting around a campfire with buddies and smoking cigars and drinking beer, playing poker with friends, fixing broken things, and other assorted manly things do the trick for me.

This past week I had such an event- something that almost made me pound my chest and say “me..man.” One of my favorite scenes in a movie is when Tom Hanks pounds his chest in victory when he gets a roaring fire started in Castaway. That’s how I felt when I fixed my lawn mower this week by myself without having it picked up by Franklin Kubota for servicing (probably saved $200).

To be honest though, I needed my wife to help me, but I’m not really going to dwell much on that part.

The mower broke down as I was bringing it in for a landing after a 3 hour bout with the lawn. Only 10 minutes or so to go and on the outskirts of my land-mass some coil-thingy broke and the mower blades stopped running. Fortunately the engine still worked and I was able to drive it back to the garage. When these types of things happen to complicated mechanical devices I usually whip out the handy cell phone and call for professional service. This time I decided to tackle it on my own.

I called Franklin Kubota and explained what happened. They needed more detail to understand, but I didn’t know how to explain it… “Well, the spring-thingy, like a coil thing, broke. Its under the mower. It kind of stretches and connects to these round move-y things.”

After some time for the mechanic to translate my poor attempt to speak ‘mow-ese,’ he told me the name of the part, confirmed I would be able to repair it myself, and told me the total for the part- $9.02. Yes. I headed out to pick up the part and came back home excited to save the $100 in fees for picking up and dropping off my mower, plus $75+ in labor and parts, and a weeks time.

As I started the repair the problem became evident very quickly. I needed to stretch this amazingly thick and tightly wound metal spring from its current 8 inch length to about 2 feet to connect the two things it connected to (still not quite sure what those thingies are called). After struggling for some time with it, I came up with a solution- connect one end, and string a thick rope through the other, plant my butt on the ground and my feet against the mower tires and pull with all my might. It worked, although the first time I tried it, after exerting all my strength to pull the spring back, I realized I needed another person to reach inside the mower and actually attach the spring to the other connector-thing. That’s where Michelle came in.

It was done. I know it sounds a bit silly, but I felt like a man. A real man. A man that needed his wife to help.






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Gentlemen, Start Your Engines!

Its here! The day has arrived. The start of the ‘big idea’ season.

Today I begin the 7 month long mowing season. I will climb aboard my super-fast eXmark zero-turn radius commercial mower and commence the first of approximately 30 outings to lay low the grass spread across my 11 acre lawn.

All my friends think I’m crazy for spending 4 hours on the mower each week and ask why I don’t hire someone to do it for me. The answer to those two questions are easy:

1. Why would you spend all that time mowing? Because those 4 hours of relative silence (I wear the same ear muffs tarmac workers do at the airport) are beautiful. From those hours of mindless mowing come a river of thoughts, ideas and projects that help propel my business. Sometimes I put my MP3 player inside the headset and enjoy music. On occasion a beer or two is nice, though I notice the lines and angles on the finished lawn are not as sharp and straight as usual.

2. Why don’t you hire someone to do the lawn? I got a couple quotes on the project when we first moved here. $600 per week. $2400/month for 7 months out of the year. That comes to $16,800 per season, and $504,000, not including inflation and rising mowing costs, over the next 30 years (assuming that is when I will cease to be able to do it myself).

A few tidbits of information you might find interesting:

The mower drives on average about 8 mph. The 4 hour mower job each week means I am traveling 32 miles per mow, 134 miles per month, and 938 miles per season.

I rotate the angles each week- one week straight up and down the lawn, next week side-to-side, next week 45 degree angle to the right from the front of the house, and the next week 45 degree angle to the left. Then start over again.

½ of each beer must be guzzled down standing next to the refrigerator in the garage before boarding the mower. This is to prevent sloshing onto the mower when hitting bumps.

I don’t slow down, swerve or stop if small animals stray in front of the mower- that would result in noticeable imperfections in the cut patterns left on the lawn.

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The Almost Great Leipers Fork Fire Part 2: "Two Person 500-Foot Fire Bucket Relays Rarely Work"

Yesterday I started out to write a brief funny story of how I almost burned down my new town shortly after moving in. As I got into it, and finished off my second giant mug of hyper-caffinated Starbucks French Roast, I let loose almost 1700 words.

My friend FMF (Free Money Finance) mentioned once on his blog that my posts are long, but at least I only post once a day. So, I figured I would cut this story into two 800+ word posts. I hope you enjoy the conclusion.

The Almost Great Leipers Fork Fire Part 2: "Two Person 500-Foot Fire Bucket Relays Rarely Work."

I looked down and to the side and noticed that the hot engine of my lawn tractor had ignited the dead grass being rolled into a giant cigar under the chassis, and flames were starting to lick up into the engine lighting the stray dead grass tucked into every nook and cranny on the mower. Then the dead grass around the front of the mower caught, and that is exactly when the panic kicked in.

I jumped off with one thought in my mind- “This mower is going to explode, and I will die.”

I ran several feet away and watched as the fire grew, engulfing the front of the mower and starting to spread in a surprisingly well-defined growing circle. Then another thought crossed my mind- “I paid $2000 for this stupid thing and I’m going to sit here and watch it burn up? No way!”

I ran back to the mower, grabbed the back-end (flames were shooting up from the ground in the cock-pit area, and sitting on the mower was not an option), and with all my strength pulled it backwards. Adrenaline kicked in, and the performance was almost super-human, though the effects of the feat were not all good. I succeeded in accomplishing two things: I pulled the mower to relative safety, and I also spread flames over another 10 feet of dead grass. I grabbed my full water bottle and half-empty beer bottle and doused the fire burning under the mower, and the now burning and melting front wheels.

The fire in the field continued to burn, and started accelerating. I screamed to my wife and kids that were in the backyard playing in our blow-up pool- “Fire! Fire!”

Looking back now, I’m not sure that was productive. I panicked Michelle, and the girls all started crying as they looked up and saw daddy awkwardly running towards them navigating foot high dead grass in flip-flops, high-stepping, and wearing a sweat-soaked Hawaiian shirt and holding an empty beer can and water bottle, set to the back drop of a smoke and fire grass inferno.

Michelle and I scrambled for ideas. She suggested we call the fire department to keep from burning down all of Leipers Fork and wouldn’t that be lovely for the new neighbors to do. I considered it for a moment, and couldn’t imagine suffering the embarrassment and humiliation of having several fire trucks in our yard with Michael, Sally, other neighbors, and the constant flow of Sunday cyclist that navigate our road stopping to watch the action. Especially after the stuck-in-the-mud fiasco.

Michelle and I grabbed anything that could hold water, dipped it into the pool, and together jogged the 500 feet to the fire site. Remember the party game where you run with a spoon full of water to see who fills up the cup first, and you spill half of it getting there? This was just like that, only with a feeling of panic and the fear of perishing in a dramatic explosion replacing fun.

After a couple of rounds of this we realized we needed something bigger. The fire was growing, now to a circle roughly 30 feet in diameter with no signs of slowing. There was enough fuel in the form of dead mounds of grass spread out over 11 acres to provide the start of another Great Chicago Fire. I grabbed a plastic storage bin and filled it with water from the pool, and then on the next round tried to lift the whole stupid pool. I had lost my mind and imagined I could somehow lift 100 gallons of water in a flexible blow-up pool.

Finally, at a point of desperation, standing on the outside of the circle trying to stomp out the fire in flip-flops, Michelle said “Do you think I should get the fire extinguisher from the kitchen?”

“OH MY GOSH YES!!!” I said, just then recalling we had bought one and placed it under the kitchen cabinet. Michelle ran to the house and fetched it while I continued to fruitlessly shuttle storage bins of water back and forth from the house. Michelle returned with the fire extinguisher, I popped the safety tab and got to work. The fire was out in another minute, leaving a black smoking circle probably visible from space.

The next few weeks kept me busy- replacing the burnt front tires, slowly and painstakingly mowing the yard with a fire-extinguisher bungee-corded to the mower, and shopping for a new mower that could handle our 11 acres without burning down our town or causing a life-long battle with hemorrhoids.







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The Almost Great Leipers Fork Fire Part 1: "Smoke Between Your Legs"

In my post last week about “The Burning Of The Christmas Tree” I mentioned that a fire-extinguisher is now required for most outdoor activities around our house. I said I would tell the story of why at a later date. That day has arrived. It’s a long story, so I will post half the story today, and the other half tomorrow.

The Almost Great Leipers Fork Fire Part 1: "Smoke Between My Legs"

Shortly after moving into our new home in Leipers Fork Tennessee in May of 2003, we made the decision to keep our 11 acres cleanly mowed. This decision was based mostly on the mess we caused the first time we had it hedge-hogged the week we moved in. At the time the grass had reached chest high and brought life to the old lyric “amber waves of grain.”

We weren’t quite sure what hedge-hogging the grass entailed, but we did know that we had an offer to do it for $200, while a lawn care company quoted $800 to mow it. Bring on the hogs. The next day a tractor was towed onto our spread and it proceeded to slice down all the grass and hay, allowing it to fall to the ground in neat rows about a foot high. While it did “cut” the grass, what it left behind was a foot high grass carpet that looked worse. We needed a better solution.

I decided we would invest in a lawn tractor- the biggest I could find- and so searched Home Depot and Lowe’s. I found one at Lowe’s with a 54” mowing deck, the largest they had. It was delivered the next day and I planned my first big mow the following day, Friday.

By this time the grass had managed to grow again to about 2-3 feet in most places. As I started out on my brand new Toro Lawn Tractor (sounds much better than riding mower) I quickly realized I wasn’t going to be able to cut the grass very short. My solution was to set the deck at the highest setting, cut it roughly in half, and then go back and mow the whole yard again to get it to the desired height.

Have you ever driven past a freight train and stared at it wondering if it was moving or not? I’m sure that’s what I looked like from our road while I was sitting on my lawn tractor amidst a sea of 3 foot grass, moving at about 2mph.

I finished round one 6 hours later. My neighbors across the street, Michael and Sally, came out to say hi and mentioned with a grin on their face that my cool new mower sure was slow. These are the neighbors I had just recently met when I got my truck stuck in several feet of mud and they tried to help me get it out with their tractor (see my post: Our Family’s Off-Road Adventure).

As I started to embark on round 2 I was disheartened. I couldn’t imagine, and my rear-end couldn’t take, another 6 hour stretch. As it turned out, it didn’t matter. Trying to mow 18 inches of standing grass layered with another 18 inches of fresh cut grass is not well ingested by a residential lawn tractor.

My speed was cut in half and I gave up. I reasoned that if I waited a couple of days for the cut grass to dry up, round 2 would go much better. I waited until Sunday afternoon, and then ventured out to complete my mission. A fateful decision.

I love mowing grass. It is an escape. With my earplugs in place it is surprisingly quiet. It is a time of solitude, reflection, peace, cigars and beer. The smells while mowing are one other part of the task I enjoy greatly- the smell of fresh cut grass, of trees and the creek, and cigar smoke. Those are the good smells. The right and proper ones. The smell of grass burning is not one of them.

When there is a foot or more of dead dried grass on the ground most mowers have a difficult time choking down the mess while also struggling with the new grass to be mowed. Mowers deal with this in different ways. Some constantly clog up and spit out huge mounds of grass that look like hair-balls from some prehistoric 10 foot house cat. Some act like bull dozers paving a path through the grass with a constantly shifting wall in front, and high walls to the side leaving a wake resembling the parted Red Sea.

My new mower’s trick was to act like a Havana cigar maker carefully rolling tight cylinders of grass under the front wheels that became increasingly compact and required me to stop the mower, get out, and pull the four foot grass cigars out from the side before continuing.

It was about an hour after I started on round 2 that Sunday, and I was about as far away from my house as possible on our land, that my peaceful thoughts and reflections were shattered by a not-right smell.

These were my thoughts: “Hmm… I smell something burning. It smells sort of like burning grass. That’s weird. Hey, there’s smoke coming up from between my legs. That can’t be good.”

Next- The Almost Great Leipers Fork Fire Part 2: "Two Person 500-Foot Fire Bucket Relays Rarely Work"







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As The Grass Grows, So Does My Brain

Each Saturday, from about mid-March until Novemberish, I get up and go through normal preparations for the big mow. Get gas, make breakfast, dress appropriately (raggedy shorts, holey t-shirt, baseball cap, eye and ear protection) and plan the attack (straight up and down? sideways? angled?).

The next four hours are some of the best of my week. Uninterrupted by phone calls, E-mail and the such. I usually finish the task with a handful of strong ideas to work through the following week, most business-oriented, some not.

Many people have their ideation peaks taking a shower or laying in bed before falling asleep. For me, it’s cruising at about 8mph on my zero turn radius behemoth mower. Part of my brain is still needed for basic things like motor control, avoiding the suddenly appearing bunny rabbit or field mouse, but other than that it is hard at work thinking through ideas, options and next-steps.

Now that the grass has stopped growing, I fear the ideas will abate. I guess I should get out and walk or ride a bike. Hey- I bet those landscaping guys are pretty smart. Seriously.







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When Saturday Morning Is Not Sunny

I love Saturday mornings. I have a routine that I look forward to all week. Get up early, go to Pucketts Grocery in Leipers Fork to fill up the gas cans, head back home. Then I become a short-order cook for my wife and 4 girls. Anything they want- fried eggs, french-toast, pancakes, bacon, ham, scrambled eggs, whatever. It really is a joy to do this for them- and of course since breakfast is my favorite meal I benefit in other ways as well ("is anyone going to eat these last few pieces of bacon?").

After wrapping up breakfast, and leaving the mess for the mysterious kitchen-fairy to clean up, I don my Saturday morning uniform for the mowing task ahead- raggedy sweatpants shorts, a t-shirt, flip-flops and a baseball cap. Oh...lets not forget the iPod and beer too (ask me and I will give you biblical back-up that this is the one time it is allowable to drink beer in the morning).

The 4 hour journey is ahead of me. I have 11 acres to mow.

Today, however, is one of those rainy, cold Saturdays that blows a hole in my weekend routine...and leaves me wondering what to do. I will of course head upstairs shortly to get breakfast going, but after that I will wander aimlessly around the house looking for something to do. Maybe we will go to a movie, or I might attack that growing honey-do list. We shall see.

A nice pointless blog today to make up for yesterday.