Lawn and Care

      

        My lawn-mowing shoes stay in the garage so as not to track stuff into the house. Sticking my bare feet into those shoes is like putting my life into my hands. It is only every once in a while that I pick the shoes up, give them a shake and kind of feel around inside to make sure there is nothing in them before putting my feet in. Before moving South we received plenty of warnings about scorpions crawling into one’s shoes – be sure to check.

       And here in Georgia, there could be any number of creepy, crawly, biting, stinging things harboring in one’s cool dark shoes, especially shoes just sitting dormant in the garage for a week or two at a time. I’m not sure about scorpions, though.

       So, sticking my feet into my shoes without shaking them out is truly living on the edge, and every time my toes slip into the cool of the canvas, my memory takes me back to the summer of ’95.

       In the spring of 1995, my first husband and I split up. He moved out, and the girls and I were taking care of the house all by ourselves. It was for sure he would not be coming back, but I continued to wear my wedding and engagement rings because, frankly, I could not get them off. I was in the process of losing weight and hopeful that in a few months I could slip the rings off without the dire soapy tightly-wound-thread-around-the-finger measures.

       That summer my daughters flew to New York to spend a month with their paternal grandparents on Long Island – something that had been planned before our split. For four weeks I was all alone, missing the girls but accepting that I would have to share.

       And one early evening while they were away, I came home from work and decided to mow the lawn. The lawn mowing was one of the tasks I had usually done anyway. I enjoyed it, and the yard is so small, I’m usually finished in about 20 minutes. The only problems were when I could not get the mower started – someone from church told me once there are three parts involved with starting a lawn mower: gas, air filter, spark plugs. Believe me, I got so good at checking gas, cleaning the air filter and measuring the spark plug gap with a caliper over the years – and I’m not proud to admit I also got good at lawn mower language.

 But I digress, and starting the mower was not the problem on this particular night in the summer of ’95.

I put my bare feet into the lawn mowing shoes of that summer. And I pulled the mower out of the garage and onto the driveway.

Then I slipped my hands into some yard gloves - without shaking them out first.

Something stung me on the ring finger of my left hand, and a sensation ran up my arm, and for just a moment my head went dizzy and eyesight went black! Then, I could see again, the dizziness was gone, but the tingle was still in my arm, and the finger was smarting. Out of ten fingers, it had to be the one with the rings on it?

I whipped off the glove and the action must have dislodged whatever had stung me as there was nothing left in the glove. Oh dear, I thought, what if I have another reaction and can’t tell anyone exactly what it was that stung me? What if I pass out here on the lawn, will any of the neighbors notice and get help? What if my finger swells up and I have to get the rings off and can’t? And while I was asking all these questions of myself, I bent over, started the lawn mower, and mowed. What if I’m in the back yard and I pass out, will anyone come looking for me?

But there were no more physical reactions to the sting that night. Later that summer I was able to slip off my rings.

Several years, a few lawn mowers and another husband later, I still live in the same house and still mow the same lawn – the mower starts every time on the first, well maybe second, third pull. I’ve had different lawn mowing shoes throughout the years, but I still get the same sensation every time I put them on. My toes slip in, and I’m transported back to the summer of ’95 and the sting I got on my ring finger from whatever it was. Then I give the gloves a real good shake.

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