Simple Living with Wanda Urbanska

Wanda's Diary Entries

Monday, April 14, 2008

This past weekend was a watershed for Henry and me in my plan to transform our new life in the Sunflower House. The overall objective is to live simply and sustainably in our mid-century ranch remodel, doing as many things for ourselves as we can, harnessing the power of the sun whenever possible, lowering our carbon footprint and generally creating a happy, nurturing home. While I am fairly comfortable with the steps we’ve been taking inside the home, yardwork has always been my Achilles’ heel.

I had purchased a push lawnmower a couple of years back at a wonderful green living expo in St. Paul, Minnesota—the salesman there billed it as an “exer-mower”—but it sat there in its box, waiting for the moment to take it on its maiden voyage.

Last fall when I moved into the Sunflower House, there were lots of reasons not to assemble and try out the lawnmower: I was still unpacking, planning the “greenovation” of the house and grounds. I needed to arrange furniture, hang pictures, and get my socks in order before taking on larger challenges. Beside, it was autumn, only a few more mowing cycles till frost would cap the lawn for a season. And, quite honestly, probably a little fear entered into the equation—fear of putting my plan into action—fear that I wouldn’t be able to handle it. Though I’ve always had stamina, upper body strength has never been my strong suit.

But when I found the telltale card from the man who mowed for the house’s previous tenants (and me for a few turns) tucked into my mailbox with the words, “Give me a call,” scrawled on it, I knew the time had come. It was now or never. Tired of polluting our atmosphere with carbon emissions from a lawnmower (which pollute proportionately worse than vehicles, per gallon of gasoline burned), wanting to save the earth and some bucks at the same time, we finally put that baby into service.

Henry, of course, was first in line. He got it whirling and mowed up one row and down the next, refusing to surrender the steering wheel. I found work as his lawn assistant, raking up sticks, rocks and any garden debris that might obstruct the blades. Neighbors as they walked by stopped to chat and marvel at the curiosity. One friendly soul commented that he’d pushed one of those growing up and never thought he’d see one again.

We started in the back yard before moving to the front. When Henry finally needed a break, I took to pushing and didn’t want to stop either. Moving the mower was hypnotic, seductive. Yes, it taxed my muscles, but how much better to work your upper body this way than in a gym. How much better to work out when you’re actually working and getting something accomplished.

Today when I woke up and started out on the day, I couldn’t help but feast my eyes on the lawn and what we’d accomplished. It looked as good if not better than any professionally manicured lawn on the block. Henry divvied his earnings into his share-save-spend tubes. Today, we delight in being—not happy campers, but—happy mowers!