The Art of Mowing

Most fine artists would not admit to doing such mundane tasks as mowing the yard.  My artistic mind is contemplating complex matters so I avoid domesticated chores as much as possible.  I thank my fine art professors in graduate school for enlightening me about things that will lead artists astray.  My professors said artists should not let their daily chores sap creative energy.  They cautioned that if an artist makes a yard and home into a work of art, their studio art will suffer.  I remind myself, and especially my wife, of this vital fact.  She accepts this 101% because she knows I’m going to hit the big time once I’m 75 or 90 years old. 

My other reason for avoiding yard mowing is poetic.  Have you noticed I write poetry?  (If not, you are watching too much Summer 2012 Olympics or reading too many blogs besides mine).  Back to that tall grass and poetry stuff…Like, the tall grass, well like, it reminds me of hidden meadows and stuff.  The seeds promise another generation of grass yet to come.  Like the great circle of life and stuff.  And when I do mow the yard it’s Zen.  I start from the edge of my yard and mow towards the center.  I’m creating a prayer path of piled cut grass that took my body and soul to an ice-cold can of beer once I finished the pilgrimage. 

Another reason not to mow often are the deer that come into our yard.  My neighbors mow their yards so short that deer don’t feel welcome.  Unlike my neighbors, I don’t have to travel to the mountains to look at deer.  I sit quietly on the porch as the sun comes up to watch them mosey into our yard like Bambi and friends. 

Now you see a glimpse of the complex balancing act an artist faces.  We artists think about complex stuff.  I’m done thinking for now.  Fortunately the sun is too high to risk exposing my skin to UV rays so I might mow tomorrow.

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