I am tooling along at a moderate clip, following my Honda self-propelled lawn mower, sweating profusely in the heat and long sleeves and pants that hopefully thwart the sun’s rays and the fly’s gnawing assault.  Unless you have endless circles, ellipses or Didos to deal with this task is best suited for the individual who thrives on the less challenging of chores around the plantation.  

A lawn mower is machinery and one must not loose sight of that fact.  Outside of that fact, however, cutting grass is one of life’s most ubiquitous repetitive tasks.  

The grass is dry and the Honda is performing dead on its specifications.  I am blissfully intoxicated with unconsciousness except for the velcro tune that keeps going through my empty head – my work mantra.  Today it was “Dark Town Strutter’s Ball”, a tune I have mentioned in the past, having to do at that time, I believe, with stacking wood.  All is going well until I realize I am paying undue attention to the straightness of my cut.  Wait a minute, I say, who cares about the line I am cutting?  Then it came to me – I apparently do.

Even on large areas I find that I am cutting out squares, rectangles, triangles, right and otherwise, parallelograms, trapezoids and rhomboids.  I am not a compulsive person.  But I love a straight line.  I am always correcting.  Cutting a little more on this end to make it come even at the other end.  Or lopping off a bulge in the middle of a cut to straighten out the line.

There’s something about a straight line.  It is so basic to our lives.  I think I would have made a good surveyor.  But I think they need multiplication and long division.  Always something.  

I am reminded of that passage, “Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it.  But, small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.”  I, of the straight line, am among the few.   OK, so I am loosely applying the rules of interpretation here.  So what? He who cuts grass by way of the straight line is of a more noble cut.  Deal with it.

All hail the perfect square – the right triangle – the lovely rhomboid.  All consisting of lines, perfectly straight.  Did I mention there wasn’t a dry rag on me when I got done?  The straightest line of the day was to the shower.

1 Comment

  1. "He who cuts grass by way of the straight line is of a more noble cut. Deal with it."words to live by. -jodon-

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