Running in a Non-College Town--an homage to A.G.O

When spring finally arrives, the mowers come out.

Push mowers, Craftsman, John Deere, Cub Cadet, with baggers, mulchers, self propelled, human propelled. Riding mowers, if there's enough room.

They come out and fill in the lawns around houses. Front yards, side yards, even the unseen back yards. Every surface with fescue or zoyzia needs a mower.

Only the most stalwart mowers have the energy to mow for the retired chemical plant worker. The rest sputter and spit. Bogging down, a small mower beckons the retired gym teacher, daring him to go into the 5 inch bermuda.

It holds.
He sweats.
Waters it again.