So before Tom went out mowing on one of his tractors yesterday, I gave him my oft-recited Be Careful Speech, complete with details of what not to do because of possible dangers, to stay way clear of the drainage ditch and to not travel out in our still-soft lake, lest he get bogged down. Stuff like that.

After awhile I stood at the window to check on Tom and alas, he was happily doing all those things I'd told him not to. The guy looked like Indiana Jones out there, complete with the hat, zooming and zipping right next to the ditch and churning up water drops in the center of the lake. Good grief.

Oh the tests I've had living out here in the country. This old dog is already tired of all the new tricks she's had to learn, especially when God nags me to let Tom do what he must do--and I must not worry about him. And with a good spirit, even. (God has to nag when I fail the tests the first 71 times.)

Anyway, we've made a big decision. For some time we've agreed that we simply have too much lawn and with each issue of Mary Jane's Farm I'm convicted about all the emissions belching out of our lawn mowers each week. We've discussed putting in more flower beds and trees and gardens and patios just to use up lawn space, but last night--after toying with this idea a week or so--I decided that we should let our back meadow 'go', as in, allow it to return to the wild from which it came. We'll keep a path mowed along its side so to toss fallen branches in our woods, but we'll let the rest of our park-like setting go natural.

That's a hard decision, for I loved sitting back there in our wicker chair next to my little fountain with the fairy on top, and yet? One must know oneself, what one can handle and what one cannot--and be able to admit both (and trust that wisdom has its eventual rewards). And a person must follow her convictions, too, especially when they grow heavier and heavier upon her soul. After all, Tom and I want to go 'back to the land' as much as possible and become naturalists of a sort, and well, it's hard to reconcile that with all those lawn mower emissions adding to the world's many ills.

Besides, I'll still have my Secret Garden area behind the barn and that is huge and will require years of digging and creating. Just how much land at 50-years-old do I really need to work and sit upon and bask and rest in anyway? Probably much, much less than I think.

I'm sure I'll be fine with one less meadow.



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Months ago some of you suggested we could get by with mowing that back meadow just a couple times a year, and yet, truthfully, the grass grows too tall, too quickly for just mowing it twice yearly. Alas.

Mary Jane Butters does have a great-sounding lawn-substitute ground cover which spreads quickly, but just thinking about re-doing that whole meadow with that stuff makes me oh so tired. At least now. But perhaps someday?