Befriending John Deere

I remember the summer day in 1970 like it was yesterday. Mom and I sat at the kitchen table in her small, red brick ranch where my four sisters and I grew up in Warren. Newlyweds, my husband and I had found ourselves in uncharted territory during the Viet Nam War.

He needed work. We needed a home. Mom took us in.

She sipped her morning coffee, looked up from her cup as Mel mowed her backyard lawn, and said, “Iris, never mow your lawn. Mel will expect you to mow it from then on.”
Considering my mother adored Mel, I was surprised by her advice.

In good time Mel landed stable work. I found an apartment for rent.

In 1974, we moved our family of four into our first home in Berkley. There, on Cummings Street with a Catalpa tree in the front yard, Mel inherited the lawnmower left in the backyard’s shed.

I dug flower beds and a vegetable garden, ordered Jackson Perkins roses and asparagus crowns. Our lawn and garden roles developed naturally, perhaps due to Mom’s advice and example.

In 1988, after we built our house in Addison Township, Mel and I sowed seed for the lawn around the house that spring. When the prairie grew in the valley, Mel mowed it with the abandoned push mower he adopted. When the wind blew the straw off the grass seed, our younger daughters helped rake it back where it belonged.

Year after year, Mel expanded his lawn while I planted trees, shrubs, and flowers. Eventually, he bought a battered riding lawnmower that provoked him to develop more lawn.

“Someday, I’m going to buy a John Deere,” he announced one day.

This season, I find myself again in uncharted territory with Mel’s second John Deere, a brand new x390. It breaks my heart to recall he mowed only twice last fall before he passed January 30 during a snowstorm.

While John Deere waited winter long in the garage with snowplow, chains on the tires, and weights on the back, I pondered what to do with this desire of Mel’s heart. At last, I determined to make friends with the machine, for it belongs here.

As my neighbors helped me learn to maneuver this magnificent mower these past months, I’ve recalled Mom’s words, felt the sting of life’s irony. I confess, the order and operations of the multitude of features on the x390 intimidate me.

Furthermore, compared to Betsy, my sputtering golf cart, John Deere’s powerful mower deck frightens me. The sole responsibility for our homestead and sudden acquisition of Mel’s role as the household’s lawnmower operator, have thrown me well beyond my comfort zone.

However, I’ve paid the price of lawn service several months now, and since I’ve betrayed my commitment to good husbandry.

Dear Reader, although my mother managed to live her life without ever mowing a lawn, that is not my desire. Therefore, I’ve watched on-line operation videos and befriended Mel’s x390 John Deere.

With practice, I hope our lawn will be happy again.

Contact Iris at irisfarmletters@gmail.com