One of my favorite duties at The Acres is mowing. I find great joy in being alone painting with blades. I always do the back first--the meadow and the paths in the wild area. Though there is more to mow in the back, it takes a little less time because there are fewer obstacles--see flower beds in the dictionary. It's just primarily back and forth--until I have to wend my way around the trees and bushes in the orchard. Morning is the best time. The blue islands of spiderwort are at their peak. The daisies nod as I pass by, content to be beautiful right where they are. The "common" orange day lilies are blooming as well. They grow anywhere--wet, dry, open, overgrown. There's never been a mound of brambles so high that they can't reach their orange suns above the fray and into the sunlight. This week the wild meadow roses have begun to bloom--every shade of pink you can imagine. The noise of the lawn mower is drowned out by my thoughts and meditation. And the back looks like a park when I am finished. Perfect for a walk or two, of course. Or a sit in the chair on the hill egotistically admiring the art work. Sadly, I have not yet been joined by the velvet fliers.
Mowing the front takes a little concentration--so many beds to mow around. But it, too, is a serene exercise "Sailing" in seas of the beautiful. Perhaps it takes a little longer because I'll sit and watch the activity at the bird feeding station, as well. The front is full of islands of larkspur--dotted by moving black nectar gatherers. It is quite majestic to see thirty or so tall purple, pink, white flowers dancing in the wind. Yes, mowing at The Acres is not a chore but a celebration. A time to reflect, being lavished in beauty and a sense of His presence, an old man's living devotional. "For the beauty of the earth . . . Lord of all to Thee we raise, this our hymn of grateful praise."
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