A week or so ago the lawn mower died. What to do when the lawn mower blows up? “Buy a new one?” I asked. “Or maybe get a high school kid to come mow? ”
Rancher husband shakes his head “No” to both.
“How about I call “Down to Earth” yard guys?”
Mr. No strikes again.
So I wake up and there has appeared magically a rope across the yard and our three horses are now munching the grass. Trouble is that in that week’s time when the grass grew, the weeds grew faster. Finicky horses don’t like the weeds so the result is not exactly the well manicured suburban lawn or even that tidy of tidy ranch wives’ lawn on “The Pioneer Woman”.
Now I am not a neat freak, but the backyard looks like crap, literally. The grass is chewed down well enough, but besides the tall weeds there is a whole lot of horse poop. So this is not a lawn you’d want to roll around in with your dog let alone have a lawn party. My whole “Out of Africa” kind of vibe I had going is shot. (Yes, I see myself more like Meryl Streep than Ree Drummond. And I’m more inspired by Martha Stewart and Bobby Flay than the local church cookbook.
I’m looking forward to Rancher husband’s (should I call him Bud Lite Guy like Pioneer Woman’s Marlboro Man?”) next idea.