Metalgrass
The wind rushes across my backyard on a cloudy afternoon. I reach down to grab the starter cable on the lawnmower. It’s always a gamble with this thing. It has broken down twice already, and it only becomes jankier each time I fix it. One of these days I’m going to have to put it out of its misery. Until then, though, this grass isn’t going to cut itself…
Landscaping is one of the quintessential activities performed by any suburban homeowner. A shocking amount of time and effort must go into making sure the plants around your house are presentable. All for what? More rapport with your neighbors? A nicer-looking place for your pets to roam around in? It only kind-of makes sense, and apparently that’s enough for people to start caring.
The lawn takes just over an hour to mow under good conditions. I used to run the lawnmower out of gas before finishing the whole thing, but since then I’ve gotten faster. I always follow the same pattern: backyard before front yard, beginning at the outer fence and spiraling inward. By doing this I’ve realized that my yard is not a perfect rectangle. There’s always more to cut on the east side than the west side. When you do something enough times, you begin to notice these things…
A few years ago, my family decided to stop spending money on hiring third-party landscapers. Instead, we were going to do all the yard work ourselves like true, hardworking homeowners. I became in charge of mowing the lawn and was expected to do so every weekend. The switch was an easy decision; unlike the professional landscapers, my labor was free, took at least twice as long, and supposedly looked just as good. And so I took to the grass every weekend with the tired acquiescence of a worker who recognized the irrelevance of his job. In the meantime, my dad would work on trimming the edges of the yard, and we would get everything done in one afternoon. All in all, the system worked well.
I used to listen to music as I pushed the mower, but having headphones in while operating the spinning machine of death was apparently too dangerous. These days I have nothing but the wind and the roar of the mower to listen to while working. I have successfully convinced myself that I am perfectly happy spending an hour with the crunching sounds of metal on grass blasting in my ears. After all, the lawn has never looked better…
“If I don’t cut the grass, the lawn will become messy and unkempt.” That is the primary motive keeping me afloat. But is that really all I have? Do I toil because I fear the crushing grip of consequence, or because I long for the sweet embrace of fulfillment? It would appear that the latter manifests itself almost as much as the former. In the taming of the grass beneath my feet, I uncover an irrational sense of accomplishment. I have done nothing spectacular. The grass will regrow in a few short days. But in that brief window of time while the grass is shortened, I can relish in my sense of trivial achievement. When it comes to chores like landscaping, I find it better to enjoy doing the work other than worrying about what will happen if I don’t—to run towards something rather than away.
The sun beams down across my backyard on a clear afternoon. I reach down to grab the starter cable on my lawnmower. It’s a new model—less likely to break down whenever I use it. I think I’ll start in the front yard this time. I suppose I should get right to it; this grass isn’t going to cut itself. How lucky is it, then, that I can?
Landscaping is one of the quintessential activities performed by any suburban homeowner. A shocking amount of time and effort must go into making sure the plants around your house are presentable. All for what? More rapport with your neighbors? A nicer-looking place for your pets to roam around in? It only kind-of makes sense, and apparently that’s enough for people to start caring.
The lawn takes just over an hour to mow under good conditions. I used to run the lawnmower out of gas before finishing the whole thing, but since then I’ve gotten faster. I always follow the same pattern: backyard before front yard, beginning at the outer fence and spiraling inward. By doing this I’ve realized that my yard is not a perfect rectangle. There’s always more to cut on the east side than the west side. When you do something enough times, you begin to notice these things…
A few years ago, my family decided to stop spending money on hiring third-party landscapers. Instead, we were going to do all the yard work ourselves like true, hardworking homeowners. I became in charge of mowing the lawn and was expected to do so every weekend. The switch was an easy decision; unlike the professional landscapers, my labor was free, took at least twice as long, and supposedly looked just as good. And so I took to the grass every weekend with the tired acquiescence of a worker who recognized the irrelevance of his job. In the meantime, my dad would work on trimming the edges of the yard, and we would get everything done in one afternoon. All in all, the system worked well.
I used to listen to music as I pushed the mower, but having headphones in while operating the spinning machine of death was apparently too dangerous. These days I have nothing but the wind and the roar of the mower to listen to while working. I have successfully convinced myself that I am perfectly happy spending an hour with the crunching sounds of metal on grass blasting in my ears. After all, the lawn has never looked better…
“If I don’t cut the grass, the lawn will become messy and unkempt.” That is the primary motive keeping me afloat. But is that really all I have? Do I toil because I fear the crushing grip of consequence, or because I long for the sweet embrace of fulfillment? It would appear that the latter manifests itself almost as much as the former. In the taming of the grass beneath my feet, I uncover an irrational sense of accomplishment. I have done nothing spectacular. The grass will regrow in a few short days. But in that brief window of time while the grass is shortened, I can relish in my sense of trivial achievement. When it comes to chores like landscaping, I find it better to enjoy doing the work other than worrying about what will happen if I don’t—to run towards something rather than away.
The sun beams down across my backyard on a clear afternoon. I reach down to grab the starter cable on my lawnmower. It’s a new model—less likely to break down whenever I use it. I think I’ll start in the front yard this time. I suppose I should get right to it; this grass isn’t going to cut itself. How lucky is it, then, that I can?
MXW
1.31.2025
This is such a unique essay. I love the italicized paragraphs, and ending all of it with "...". It really connected well with your overall essay. I felt like I could really get a sense of what you're trying to describe. The ending is such a good full circle moment. You really did a great job with formatting the essay and having a balance of narration and reflection. I would love to hear more about how mowing the lawn has changed you, or you could add some sort of metaphor with the grass and cutting it. These are just suggestions if you need more words, but overall I think you did an excellent job!
ReplyDeleteSalutations good sir Michael.
ReplyDeleteI absolutely adored your beautifully written reflection on the mundane task of mowing the lawn. You combine humor, self-reflection, and a touch of existential contemplation. The imagery you write, such as the wind rushing across the backyard and the "spinning machine of death" scene that is both relatable and immersive. I was also truly entertained by the formatting of this composition. The switch between narrative and reflection provided a unique reading experience. Much like some others said, I believe if you added some reflection related to the "bigger picture", maybe something you took away from your history of mowing the lawn, your personal essay could be even better. Great job Michael Wu.