Part of the flock

How long does it take to mow 8 acres of bermuda grass?
Oh about 2 hours on a scag turf tiger zero turn mower! I’ve been put to work already – arriving last night to marinated prime rib, baked potatoes, Whitewater IPA from sam adams in a frosty mug and salad drizzled in fig vinegarette. (those were our terms for waffle hostages. They were met with flying colors.)
It feels wonderful to be here. Last night under a canteloupe moon that rose behind a high pasture, mom and I picked strawberries and blackberries. The fireflies danced within the thick brush and trees near the creek. Fireworks exploded out of sight making us wrongly assume thunder was coming in a cloudless sky.
I’m not sure what it is about this place – a place I didn’t even grow up in – but every once of it feels like home. Maybe it’s the people, the pictures, the balloon blanket tucked into the shed rafters that your brother used to wrap you up in playing STEAM ROLLER! Maybe it’s the breeze, the peace, the three paint horses wandering comfortably in the field next door.
I woke early this morning. COffee and breakfast prepared and the three of us (me, mom, step-dad) put on our gloves to work outside. Riding that mower was the best damn thing I’ve done in a long time – think go cart with unlimited track space and no crusty seat belt. Zig-zagging across the lawn, swallows gathered to see what bugs I might kick up. We swarmed together, me, free-wheeling fast enough my gardening shirt flew behing me like a cape, filthy, dirt – the new organic sunscreen; the swallows, grabbing and picking the left-overs almost as if we were all on the same team, flying flocked together.

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