Fu Man Chu

Give me another couple of days and I'll be asking everyone who was here last weekend back for a do-over.  I had so wanted the place to look its best and it came off looking raggedy, unkempt and uncared for.  The yards were shaggy with weeds, but do look so pretty when mowed, especially at this time of year when they're still green.  All my plans went down the drain when the mower quit and I could only hope that my guests raised their eyes up to the hills and horizon and not down at the ground.

Since its last trip to the ER, the mower is running like brand new.  Poor thing, it must have been suffering for some time.  Too windy to mow in the morning, I finally got a chance to get outside in the afternoon and tackle the unfinished west field.  Buckety-bucking along, bouncing over hillocks and dropping into squirrel holes, going in ever-narrowing circles, Tim McGraw's song "Live Like You Were Dying" came to mind.  Specifically, the line that goes, "...I went 2.7 seconds on a bull named Fu Man Chu."  Other than the farm itself, I am not in the habit of naming inanimate things, but after that gut-busting ride, the mower has been christened Fu Man Chu.  The driveway and west field are looking good; only four more yards to go.  I wonder if saddle sores qualify for Workers' Comp.