IF YOU GIVE A MAN A TRACTOR, Part 2

Patrick turned out to be a Godsend for us. He had his own mower and zipped through our lawn much faster than I could have. At this point our own children were of driving age and working at their own jobs. This was a part of growing up we had instilled in them-the value of having a job and earning their own money. These jobs took up much of their time, and it certainly paid better than my husband and I would have paid them for mowing the lawn. Yet there were disadvantages to this situation. Auto insurance in New Jersey for five drivers cost so much that we could have sent all three to Ivy League colleges for that amount. So after careful consideration we decided it was time to move. Patrick agreed to keep our lawn looking good while we were waiting for the house to sell. Finally, after a period of time, we were moved into our new home-Tangled Oaks.

This was something entirely different. The property consisted of five and a half acres bordered on two sides by corn fields, a second side was a residential street, and the fourth side was the street of our address. The house had a small barn with electricity and water; zoning laws permitted us to have one horse. There was a small orchard which bore many varieties of apples plus a pear and peach tree. Since the owners were moving to Florida, they were more than willing to negotiate the price of leaving their LAWN TRACTOR. So for more money than I want to think about, we became the proud owners of a tractor which pulled behind it a large mowing deck.

With an essentially flat lawn, my husband's dream of being on top of a large, powerful machine became a reality. The previous owner had planted trees at intervals all along the 800-foot driveway. They essentially obscured the house, and they provided a lot of privacy. It was difficult, however, for my husband to maneuver around the trees so that the cutting part attached to the back could really cut close enough. To that end, I followed him around on one of my scooters with shears to cut around all of the trees. This was a time-consuming job because the trees were many and their varied species required different cutting techniques. Some of them had scraggly trunks and exposed roots that waited to throw me off my scooter. Others had low clusters of leaves that concealed sharp thorns just at my eye level. Sunglasses did the job of shielding my eyes from the bright light AND the thorny branches. But there was no hope of keeping these thorns away from my hands. Even with work gloves, I got bloody. Beyond that, some of the trees were simply WEIRD! They produced large coated lumps covered with green, much like a corn husk. What were they? They had interested my husband to the point that he had "harvested" one and brought it into the office. I set about identifying this strange flora.

My first step, obviously, was the Internet where I went onto Google®. How should I begin? Based on other things I had discovered on the property, there were many trees that had nuts or berries to the delight of the birds and squirrels. Maybe this wrapped up hard ball could be a nut? OK, try looking up "nut bearing trees in eastern Pennsylvania." There were tons! As I scrolled through the numerous sites I went past "black walnut" that were growing out close to the road in our yard and in the yard directly across. At the end of the summer I watched the squirrels scurrying across the street between the two sides. Squashed nuts were common, and I was always afraid of seeing a squashed squirrel. So I got in the habit of retrieving nuts that I could reach on my scooter and taking them back to the safe area by the barn. The rear tree line of the property was full of squirrels and I thought that the walnuts would be enjoyed without the worry of the road. But as I continued to scroll through the results of my Internet search I came across the answer I sought: it was a "Chinese Chestnut". That answer satisfied my husband, although the branches still hit him in the face as he mowed.

As my husband drove his new toy more, he became better at getting around obstacles like the house, the well standpipe, and the barn. However the wrought iron rods that held the bird feeders were not so lucky. The back section of the tractor, the separate floating cutting part, had snagged on the rods. One fell over entirely, leaving it bent out of shape beyond recognition. Oops! The other was bent at the base but was otherwise still usable. However, for the time being it would remain as a lawn ornament "sculpture". As the summer pressed on he became more aware of what was around him. And what was underneath him that needed attention, like the blades and the fluids. In their haste to move away, the owners had neglected basic maintenance on their tractor. This meant that my husband would have to do it. Ordinarily this would not be a problem, but now many years beyond his "car fixing" stage as a young man, it was. Parts had to be removed, cleaned, and emptied out into whatever was available to hold the fluids. Getting things loose that were solidly stuck was another challenge, especially while working under a tree outside. Branches insisted on blowing into his head and face until in exasperation he ordered me to "cut these darned things off"!

Having a tractor/mower of this size also created another problem in that it gave him a rather cavalier attitude toward the ground below. If there was grass growing, forge ahead! Cut it all! Don't bother stopping to pick up sticks and big branches that wife left behind. I've got the power! Until suddenly…"CRACK, sputter, hobble…die". What happened? Is it out of gas? Did the back cutting section get caught on something? Trying the engine again was of no use. One of the pieces of wood left behind was really big and HEAVY and it had broken the blades on the mower. Oh great. Now what? It was quickly apparent that the bent blades would have to be replaced, so new ones were ordered and when they arrived, I had to help lift the equipment up so that my hubby could remove the now crippled parts and attach the usable ones. This took half a day of dirt, sweat, yelling, and pinched fingers, but at last we were operational. Note to husband: don't run over large wooden pieces!

When that first summer wound down and the thoughts of the coming winter filled our minds, my husband seemed comforted by the fact that his new toy not only had a mower that attached to the back, but it also had a PLOW which fit on the front that would clear out all 800 feet of the driveway so that he could get to work even if it snowed. Then finally, the snow came. It began as all snow storms do with a few dancing flakes followed by a few MORE until the sky was solidly filled with them. The driveway was covered first, and then bit by bit the brown lawn turned white. News coverage had already predicted significant accumulation and schools were closing early as a precaution. I mentioned to my husband that he might want to run the plow over the driveway, but he said he would rather wait until it was ALL DONE SNOWING so he only had to go out once. So he waited. And it kept snowing. Then when morning came, he donned coat, gloves, hat, boots, and trekked out to begin his day's chore of plowing out the driveway. The tractor started up fine; it managed to respond to the operating mechanisms to lower the plow to the ground where the snow was; it began to push the white stuff up the driveway, leaving a path where a car could run. But this snow was deep and just wet enough to be very heavy. So that by the time he had reached only the first curve in the driveway, the machine moved no more. The plow was solidly stuck behind more than a yard of plowed snow that had packed tight. No amount of gunning the engine made it move forward OR backward.

Wondering why the sound of the engine had stopped, I looked out the window to see my husband trying to walk through the snow toward the house. His face was red; his jaw was set; I could almost see smoke coming out of his ears. Then he shouted at me to "call a plow to come over here and do the driveway"! His tone and expression could have been Ralph Cramden threatening to send Alice "bang, zoom, up to the moon". Finding an available plow driver just as a big storm was stopping was easier said than done. Such people had long since made arrangements with businesses, organizations, and even just residents to do plowing. After many calls with no results, my husband was growing increasingly frustrated, angry, and red faced. Then finally someone took pity on his plaintive plea for help and agreed to come over and plow us out. Watching him work showed the depth of the snow in the driveway. As he was finishing up, my husband turned to me and said, "Write him a check for $500.00". What? Five hundred dollars? For less than an hour's work? But what could I do. Make him take the snow back? So I wrote the check. And my husband agreed that he should have been out with the plow while it could still push the lighter, early amounts. This episode, together with the bending of the blades if they hit a limb, made my husband think about the need to start working on the driveway at the beginning of a storm. These experiences had made my him lose faith in the ability of this tractor to both mow the grass and plow the driveway. Maybe it was time to make a change and get a NEW TRACTOR?