Migrant Agricultural Labor ~ From The Other End Of The Block

I hate mowing the lawn. Always have. I'd rather live in the woods. The problem is getting from "lawn" to "woods" without the code enforcement guys getting on your case about the "lawn" being overgrown while the itty-bitty oak and Hong Kong orchard seedlings first stick their heads above the surrounding blades of grass and turn into saplings tall enough to qualify as young trees.

I keep telling myself that I should buy a self propelled mower but so far I haven't done so. There are several kids in the neighborhood that come around wanting to earn some money cutting grass, and I'd rather use them than a lawn service. Kids mowing lawns is a grand old tradition in this country. I used to do it. My son used to do it. Now Nicholas and Davaris, both 13, do it. The only trouble I have with it is the price they charge relative to the price that I used to charge. You can't find a kid these days who'll mow the lawn for the five bucks that I used to get a mere half a century ago. Damn! I'm old.

These two gentlemen did a great job, but half way through they asked me if I had any gas. I did, but not enough, so they borrowed my gas can and took off for a couple of hours. When they returned and finished the job they asked if they could hold on to my can since it still had more gas in it and they'd paid for the gas. They left with the can, promising to bring it back "later". They did, but "later" turned out to be four days. Oh well, the grass was cut and it only cost me forty bucks.