Horse Play

The horses were straining, struggling for oxygen but raring to go.

It was the first cut of the year and the grass was thick, unruly, matted and, at that time in the early afternoon of a Spring day, still damp with dew. In the half shade thrown by the hedge to the south side of the garden it was very much wetter. These conditions had persisted over the winter and the lawn was flatter and mostly of heavy moss.

The horses were fired up and I turned them westwards. I was equidistant from the boundary and garage to start the first run. I was determined to reward my endeavour with a regimented straight lined cut. The cutting edge of the machine hesitated briefly as it engaged with the grass. A snort of bluey white vapour as the horses dug in, took hold and wrenched the blades out of the soil. The very gentle, almost imperceptible upward incline of the back garden assisted in the slow progress towards the flowerbed which separated the two lawned areas like a lush island in a coral green sea.

The first furrow-like incision released the natural smell of the grass and in the slowly warming air of the day made me giddy, elated and very reflective on past occasions when the aroma of freshly mown ground had been present. It was the smell of school sports day, snogging a girl at the local recreation ground, a pleasant chore to do for extra pocket money, seeing an etched and patterned football pitch as you emerge through the turnstiles and up through the tunnels at the stadium.

The first turn was a time for caution. The blade could snag and abrade a bald patch. The horses took some manoevring into a course paralell to the first bright green trench of a cut.

Up and down, up and down, up and down.

The chunky weight of the machine left the imprint of its tyre dressed wheels. The rivulet lines made a pleasing darker border for the slowly emerging pattern of stripes. Streaks of severed grass under my feet ,as I drove the horses on another tramline, indicated a collection box full and overflowing. The damp grass was a lush mass of green fragrance. I admit that I held a handfull to my face and inhaled.

I was in harmony with the machine and its relentless but efficient operation on the lawn and was surprised and not a little bit disappointed to find that I was on the final turn and run to complete the first cut of the year. As I overan the lawn and pulled up on the paving slabs of the path the engine spluttered and the horse power diminished to a nothing. The tank of unleaded fuel had been exactly enough to achieve as close to perfection as possible for a deckchair stripe lawn.

With regret I returned the Honda to the hire centre but considered the £20 charge to be perhaps the best value for anything in the world.

I gazed out this morning on my handiwork. Entirely convinced that the grass had indeed grown some more overnight I looked forward to harnessing up the horses again before the weekend.