There’s nothing like the smell of fresh cut grass

Yesterday, the neighbor loaned us a diesel riding lawn mower so that we could cut the grass that the cows left behind. Surprisingly, there was a lot of grass left over after the cows got done with it.

Now, I know that riding lawn mowers aren’t exactly eco-friendly, but there’s several acres of grass to mow here, and it was ridiculously tall. Like, I kept losing my little Mollie because I couldn’t see her through the jungle we had going on out here. I think there’s a plan involving goats for the future, but until then we’ve got to deal with it somehow. So, riding lawnmower it is for now.

side note: diesel. Surpsingly efficient, and the engines that run on it are pretty much awesomely strong. This lawnmower sounded like a whole damn bulldozer as it puttered around the yard.

Also related: as much as I joke about my “big ass”, apparently it isn’t quite big enough for this lawnmower. See, the yard is quite bumpy, likely from cows stomping it to hell for the last several years while the property was vacant; if I rode the lawnmower too fast across the really bumpy parts I bounced so hard that the lawnmower seat-safety-sensor-thingy thought I had been thrown off the lawnmower.

I digress.

Now, I think most of us can agree that there’s nothing like the smell of fresh cut grass. I rather like it myself, in spite of the fact that my allergies and COPD most decidedly do NOT like the effects of fresh cut grass, which is not good now that I live a million miles from an outdoorsman’s lake that has several EMTs that double as fishing guides on it on any given day. Still, fresh cut grass smells nice.

 

So you would think that the sight of Sunshine puttering around part of the yard on a riding lawnmower would make my heart happy.

cutting grass 2

I guess on some level, it did. I will be able to SEE my little Mollie as she scampers around the yard.

The problem with all this grass cutting?

The fucking cows. The ones that had diarrhea.

Fresh cut diarrhea cowshit does NOT smell good. Hell, cowshit doesn’t smell good no matter which way you serve it up. It doesn’t smell good on my lacer boots, it doesn’t smell good on our four-wheeler, it doesn’t smell good in my yard, and it certainly did not smell good on my dog. Yep, that’s right. Little Mollie rolled in cowshit. Not once, but twice yesterday. Poor thing got so many baths yesterday that she must have thought she’s died and gone to the seventh circle of hell.

There was cowshit everywhere. Giant piles of it, trails of it, little bits and bobs of it. It went flying. Anywhere that hadn’t been directly contaminated by the cows shitting on it was now contaminated with second-hand cowshit. What started as piles and trails of cowshit was now a bunch of skidmarks all over the yard. The lawnmower was quite the sight to behold by the time Sunshine made the last cut and headed up the hill to the house. The tires glistened, slick with runny cowshit. We had to hose the lawnmower down before we could return it to the neighbor.

The fresh cut grass smell was noticeably absent, replaced by a miasma that probably stretched from here to Sunshine’s tribal territories to the north of us, the Metroplex to the south of us, New Mexico to the west of us, and Shreveport to the east of us. I’m honestly quite surprised that the CDC or NHS of Department of Defense didn’t show up to investigate the source of the funk.

At least the grass is dealt with for the time being. Now, maybe I can do some research and figure out how to save the sickly yet somehow overgrown cacti that can be seen in those pictures.

final note: I hear cows. Those fuckers better not be headed back to my yard.

 

 

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