By Mitch Lee
At the age of 10, I loved to mow lawns and hear the rumble of the engine of our small Briggs and Stratton push mower.
Using every muscle I had, I plowed through spongy weed-infested lawns comprised mostly of moss and dandelions.
I made a few dollars a week keeping a few of my Limekiln Lake neighbors’ lawns looking Adirondack respectable.
It was the last Friday in May and most of my lawns were ready for their first good haircuts.
Like a gun in a holster, I slid a pair of closed spring-loaded grass shears through a hole that had developed in the back pocket of my jeans.
Then I carefully filled the mower with gas and carried the extra gas with me in a one gallon Clorox bottle.
I pushed the mower down the road, occasionally letting it go to travel on its own down hill.
I jogged along with it in case it tried to veer off into the ditch.
I was headed towards the lake road where I had three lawns in need of a cut.
When I reached the first cottage lawn it took some time to get the old mower started.
But when it roared to life I was happy to smell my first cut grass of the season.
The Blackflies were equally as happy to see me as I paced back and forth over all three properties making neat and perfect cuts.
The worst areas to mow were the sweeping ditches that ran along the road with their rocks and thick plants.
The violent tremble of the mower and the sound of it scuffing a rock made the hair on my neck stand to attention.
With sweat pouring off my forehead and the smell of mower exhaust still lingering in the air I went to work with my clippers trimming around posts, sheds, camp lattice and rock fire pits.
I found a few worms and a Red Eft salamander that I carefully put in to the palm of my hand. It wriggled and was cool to the touch, and I set it next to a nice log.
The blackflies swarmed me in great numbers.
They seemed to be calling in reinforcements so I decided to push that mower back up the hill.
I pushed with both hands as I looked down at my Pro Keds that were covered with the first grass stains of the season.
From that point on taking care of the lawns would be a chore, but that first mow of the season was always enjoyable.
—
Mitch Lee, Adirondack native & storyteller,
lives at Inlet. ltmitch3rdny@aol.com