People who frequent the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse want to weigh in on an upcoming topic two weeks in advance. We do not put plastic flowers on the graves of our loved ones on Memorial Day. Never, ever. Some of us, quite frankly, judge those who do. Maybe we shouldn’t, but still, we think even a handful of wildflowers or a 99¢ geranium is a better way to say, “I remember.”

I walked behind the mower today and then walked behind the vacuum cleaner; I prefer the lawnmower, although it is harder to push and a great deal harder to turn. I don’t have a self-propelled one now because our yard is just so small and so many things to go around. So, yeah, in the strong heat of summer I mow a little bit and then rest . . . and make sure I drink frequently. But today was okay to mow – and I did.

I have been mowing for decades – starting with a reel mower. Sometimes looking at the grass in front of the mower, I could be 12 or 59. It’s not that I don’t think of current things when I mow  – it is just that there are times when all I am aware of is the line of mowed grass and unmowed in front of me, of the smell of it.

I feel I am just a little closer to the people who went before me in my family, doing this basic sweaty work.