Where The Green Grass Grows


This spring’s incessant snow, rain and drizzle have wrought yet another bountiful harvest of lush, green growth to our mountaintop…and my backyard. Wanting to get a grip on the situation before it gets totally out of control, I decided to begin my weed-whacking regimen earlier than usual this year. After all, it’s a lot easier to cut into these devilish weeds while they’re still only ankle-high, rather than wait until June when they’re waist-high.


Sure, I complain every year about the weeds. But don’t get me wrong; I’d rather live where the green grass grows than some stinkin’ concrete city. “I’m gonna live where the green grass grows, watchin’ my corn pop up in rows. Every night be tucked in close to you, raise our kids where the good Lord’s blessed. Point our chairs towards the west. Plant our dreams where the peaceful river flows, where the green grass grows.” (“Where The Green Grass Grows” – Tim McGraw -1997)


The last two weekends have found me clomping around the yard in my ankle-high boots, attacking every weed in sight. The boots are meant to protect me from snakebites, which is what I was hoping to avoid by performing this yearly chore early in the season. Too late – I didn’t start early enough because the rattlers are already slithering around out there, as I discovered, much to my surprise, last weekend. So, be diligent and cut those weeds, but watch where you tread…better yet, “Tread lightly and carry a big stick.”


Having a lot of weed-shrouded territory to cover and getting fed up with the unreliability of your basic $69.95 weed eater, which generally only lasts one or two seasons, I did what Homer Simpson would do and bought the second-cheapest one, the $129.95 model. (the “second-cheapest” reference is from a Simpsons episode where Homer snaps his fingers and calls out, “Waiter, bring me a bottle of your second cheapest wine.”)


Anyway, this second-cheapest weed-eater comes with a self-advancing mechanism that releases just the right amount of weed-eating string every time you bump it against the ground. Right…it’s “self-advancing” as long as you stop every five minutes and advance the green, plastic string yourself. I’m not sure why the string doesn’t always advance (maybe it’s because I listen to Homer Simpson too much).


The worst part of weed-eating is when you’re all done and you walk into the house resembling the Jolly Green Giant. Someday, when I win the lottery, I’m going to get one of those little green John Deere tractors to mow all my troubles away. It will have an enclosed, air-conditioned cab so I can scurry around the yard, with one hand on the wheel and the other grasping a tall, cool one, lemonade, of course. When I’m done, I’ll be able to spring forth from the cab, clean, cool and refreshed, no longer worried about resembling the Jolly Green Giant…Ho, ho, ho.


All right, so I can dream, can’t I?


Keep it flyin’, Uncle Mott