Snow Day

02/05/2011

 

To know Brian is to know he lives to groom our lawn.

In the summer he meticulously mows the lawn every other day in perfectly straight lines, ensuring the grass height and cut is appropriate for the amount of rain expected.

We take detours around town measuring his cutting skills against other mowers’ and occasionally stop to ask what type of seed, mulch, or machine they’ve used to achieve such success.

Brown spots on our lawn are treated, grubs removed, trees trimmed.

Failure is not an option.

In the winter snow flakes make him giggly.

He paces between the window and television listening for reports on accumulation and he has been known to snow blow three times in one day.

His lines, like in the summer, are perfect and flow endlessly into one another. He ensures all the snow piles perfectly in one area and calls me to the window to look at his work when he finishes.

Pictures have been taken when he’s specifically proud of a job. Pictures with his machines, which he keeps cleaner than our cars.

When Snowapalooza was splattered all over the news Brian looked pale. His excitement was at a level I’d never seen before. He had trouble getting to sleep and he sat at the window willing it to snow more.

He called his mom and they talked about snow plowing the driveway for 40 minutes.

When he finally went out to tackle the intense mass of snow he looked back at me with determination, his eyes big, and told me to “Bunker down!”

I don’t even know what that means.

Wrapped tightly in his brown work coat, fuzzy hat with drop down ears (that I bought him for a joke but he totally loved), and big winter boots he set off to face the elements leaving me to “bunker down.”

He snow plowed for hours with a smile plastered on his face. The driveway was row upon row of tidy lines and he stood back to admire his work.

I watched from my spot on the couch where I was “bunkered down” and received the signal that it was time for a picture. THIS was one of the rare occasions. THIS was an award winning plow.

We photographed his work, got a few different poses, I even humoured him and suggested a few shots thinking it would bring him inside. It did, but when a man like him, a man so addicted to grooming his lawn, plows a snow fall like this one a couple hours plow would just scratch the surface of a very deep itch.

Brian began to gaze out the window… he stared at the neighbours driveway which was  filled with snow.

“Hun, Bunker down!”

Picture

Leighann

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Snow Day

02/05/2011

 

To know Brian is to know he lives to groom our lawn.

In the summer he meticulously mows the lawn every other day in perfectly straight lines, ensuring the grass height and cut is appropriate for the amount of rain expected.

We take detours around town measuring his cutting skills against other mowers’ and occasionally stop to ask what type of seed, mulch, or machine they’ve used to achieve such success.

Brown spots on our lawn are treated, grubs removed, trees trimmed.

Failure is not an option.

In the winter snow flakes make him giggly.

He paces between the window and television listening for reports on accumulation and he has been known to snow blow three times in one day.

His lines, like in the summer, are perfect and flow endlessly into one another. He ensures all the snow piles perfectly in one area and calls me to the window to look at his work when he finishes.

Pictures have been taken when he’s specifically proud of a job. Pictures with his machines, which he keeps cleaner than our cars.

When Snowapalooza was splattered all over the news Brian looked pale. His excitement was at a level I’d never seen before. He had trouble getting to sleep and he sat at the window willing it to snow more.

He called his mom and they talked about snow plowing the driveway for 40 minutes.

When he finally went out to tackle the intense mass of snow he looked back at me with determination, his eyes big, and told me to “Bunker down!”

I don’t even know what that means.

Wrapped tightly in his brown work coat, fuzzy hat with drop down ears (that I bought him for a joke but he totally loved), and big winter boots he set off to face the elements leaving me to “bunker down.”

He snow plowed for hours with a smile plastered on his face. The driveway was row upon row of tidy lines and he stood back to admire his work.

I watched from my spot on the couch where I was “bunkered down” and received the signal that it was time for a picture. THIS was one of the rare occasions. THIS was an award winning plow.

We photographed his work, got a few different poses, I even humoured him and suggested a few shots thinking it would bring him inside. It did, but when a man like him, a man so addicted to grooming his lawn, plows a snow fall like this one a couple hours plow would just scratch the surface of a very deep itch.

Brian began to gaze out the window… he stared at the neighbours driveway which was  filled with snow.

“Hun, Bunker down!”

Picture

Leighann

Thank you for SharingTweet about this on TwitterShare on StumbleUponShare on LinkedInShare on Google+Share on FacebookEmail this to someonePin on PinterestShare on Tumblr

Related Posts:

There are no comments yet. Be the first and leave a response!

Leave a Reply

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