Possumblog

Got up early Saturday--

put on some pants, walked outside, misting rain.

::sigh::

Well, it was just gonna have to stop raining. It's been several weeks since both the back yard and front yard were both cut at the same time, and the whole place was getting to the "scary neighbor with a secret" sort of overgrownness. So, it was going to get cut, even if I messed it up. At least it would be a neatly cropped and shorn mess.

But first, other things--figured I'd feed the birdies. Great time-waster, that. Cleaned out the feeders tubes of the leftover bits and filled them up, and once more marvelled at the design of these things. Several years back, one of the running bits herein was my battle with brushy-tailed tree rats (i.e., squirrels) getting into the feeders. We've had feeders for years, and nothing I tried could simultaneously feed birds and starve squirrels.

I bought three of these, made by Heath (the Silver Sky tube feeder at the bottom left)--and haven't had any problems since. They combine a clear plastic tube (which is too slick for the little vermin to get a toehold and lets you see how much seed is left), with small metal perches that are too slick and too short for the little vermin to get a toehold AND are gnawproof. And that seems to be about it. I have two mounted right next to trees, and none of them are more than a few feet off the ground, but try as they might, the squirrels just can't get at them. No baffles, no motors, no bother. I do leave them a few seeds on the ground to keep them lured away, but it's nothing like the amount they can eat if they get into the feeder. I remember one time we had a cedar bin-type feeder with a tray, and I walked out one day and a squirrel was lying there in the tray on his bulging stomach eating everthing he could get.

Take THAT stupid rodents!

Anyway, filled those up, wandered around the yard a bit more, came inside and folded some clothes, saw that the sun had finally peeked through the mist, and that it was time to get out the ol' Murray.

Start it up, get to work, then hit a patch of particularly heavy wet grass and start the first round of cacophony from the underside of the mower. Hmmm. Not sound good, Kemosabe.

Took it over onto the driveway, turned it over, and saw that the blade I had put on at the end of last season had gotten loose. Stupid blade. And there was no tightening it--the bolt was ever so slightly too long--by mere thousands of an inch, and just long enough to not really snug down tight and hold the blade in place. So it just clattered and spun independent of the driveshaft. Grr.

Need me another washer.

Stumbled around in the garage over and through the stacks of Other Family Members' Giant, Must-Not-Be-Thrown-Out Stacks o' Crap until I got to the tiny portion of space reserved for Unimportant Items Belonging To Father. Rummaged though my little bins full of bits and pieces and found a nice washer that should have worked just fine--AND DID! Hooray for being a packrat!

Wrenched it tight, turned it over, and got back to work.

Putter, drone, putter. Usually when I cut grass, my mind wanders to unsolvable mysteries, such as why Howard Dean is in charge of ANYthing, much less the Democratic Party, but Saturday I was mostly just in that little zone of near-consciousness. Which was rather rudely interrupted by the dronedroneCLANGCLANGCLANG--

of the lawn-mower hitting something and stopping itself deader than a hammer. Hmmm Grr.

Backed up a bit, and found a nicely mangled bit of sheetmetal that had in a previous life served as a cover for the drive belt underneath the mower. Seems it had come adrift, right into the path of the newly tightened blade.

"Whatcha doing, Daddy?"

WHOA! Were'd she come from!?

"Nothing, Cat--this piece of metal came loose under the mower and made it stop."

"Why?"

"Because it's old and had several loose screws, just like your pater familias."

"Oh."

"Here, go take this and go put it on the stone bench and stay out of the yard, okay?"

"Can I ride my bicycle?

"Not until I finish this."

"When are you going to finish?"

"I don't know--now go do what I said."

She daintily held the hunk of steel in her hand and wandered on back to the house with it and I cranked up the mower again. First pull. Must be made by Timex or something!

More droning puttering until brrrrCLANGCLANG-THWIPPPPZING--

yet more metal carnage. This time it had come out from underneath at a rather rapid clip before stopping the engine. Another piece of the cover plate covering the drive belt. I heard Cat call from the porch, "Did it do it again, Daddy!?"

Why, yes it did.

She ran out to get the metal and put it with the other hunk, and I went back to trying to finish the grass. "Can I ride my bike now?"

No.

Started it back up, and the remainder of the backyard was uneventCLANG-RIPBR!CLANG--

Not again!

Why, yes, Terry--again! Just like Teletubbies!

I rolled the poor thing over once more, and this time was QUITE impressed. A BIG hunk of sheetmetal, coiled up like a sardine can lid, with several big bite marks from the blade gouged into it. This piece was a cover over the FRONT axle, and had gone from one side to the other. Until it came loose on one side and got wound up like a clockspring by the blade.

Yikes.

"WHAT'D IT DO, DADDY!?"

She ran back out to take a look and I showed her the mess. "Wow."

Indeed.

I worked the metal back and forth, hoping to get it to break, but no luck. Inside to get my tin snips in an attempt to shear off the piece, had to explain that they were big scissors for metal and not to touch them, started trying to cut the metal and one of the rivets popped right off. Hmm. If one can come loose, so can the other, and, in fact, it did. I carried this one to the stone bench myself because it was so full of sharp edges. "Can I ride my bicycle yet, Dad?"

No.

Went back and cranked the mower again. One pull.

As the old timers used to say, "If it still runs after you lose a part, you must not a'needed that piece." Reba said something about maybe it was time to get a new one, and I just laughed it off. She seems not to remember the last one we had, which developed a crack in the deck at one of the engine mounting bolts. The crack eventually grew to encompass two, then three bolts, running rougher and rougher with every use. I finally got rid of it when the motor separated itself completely from its moorings.

As long as it runs and cuts, no new mower.

Finally got all finished up, both front and back, and in the intervening time, summer arrived full bore and taking no prisoners. I had put on my straw hat, but my arms were uncovered, and so I am proud to say my farmer tan has returned with a vengeance.

I went inside and cooled off for a while and after being pestered for an hour with entreaties to ride bikes, I finally relented. Then again, I did have an ulterior motive--playing with the car.

I had noticed the pad under the carpet in the trunk was wet, so that needed to be gotten out, and the spare tire well looked like it had rust in it. Not good. And I wanted to get to old window stickers out of the back window.

SO, back outside into the now broiling Alabama afternoon, with not one, not two, but three children in tow, all wanting to ride their bicycles.

Which you will all get to hear about after lunch!

Posted by Terry Oglesby at June 6, 2005 11:37 AM