I was mowing the grass this afternoon, and noticing how much it had grown in the past week. I enjoy this job because it's satisfying to see the obvious difference between the cut and the uncut grass. I use the mowing time to let my mind relax and wander.
Today I started thinking about the elaborate patterns they make in the grass in major league baseball stadiums. I decided to create a minor-league version of my own; today I mowed a design in the grass.
I opted to create the letter G (for my last name). I turned the mower off, moved to a sunny part of the back yard, and turned it back on. I carefully reproduced the circular part of the letter (making two passes with the mower so it would be twice as thick), then turned it off, moved into position and cut the straight part of the letter. When I was done, I turned off the mower and went up on the deck to admire my work from above.
I called Tony outside to admire with me. Our conversation went something like this:
ME--"Can you see the design I just mowed?"
TONY--(obviously stalling for time) "Hmm...is it a circle?"
TONY--"A face? An oval?"
ME--"It's a letter."
TONY--"O? Q? C?"
ME--"Nope, Nope, Nope. It's a G."
TONY--Oh yeah. I see it now. Good job!" (He high-tails it back inside before I can ask him any more questions.)
The design was meant to be temporary, so after Tony went back inside I finished cutting the grass, mowing right over my work. My masterpiece disappeared as quickly as it was created.