Ah. Done. Now I will mow. Oh, shoot. Look at all the dandelions.

Finish mowing. Go get the Roundup and spray eau de dandelion killer here and there. And there.

As mowing is finished – well looky there – there’s more dog poop. Go and get the pooper-scooper and do poop patrol (again).

Looks like the vegetables need watering. Again. Corn is topping out. Go get the attachment and drag the garden hose out.

Oh, look. Slugs have been at the broccoli plants – holes in the leaves. Go get the eau de  slug killer.

Long electric cord did not get wrapped nicely today. Laying in gentle heap in garage because the front yard needs to be mowed tomorrow.
So. Yes. The man was right. Can’t get it all done at once.
I’ve slowed my approach to the outdoors jobs and now I actually sit down in the doorway that leads from the dining room into the garage to put on yard shoes before I go out because–yet again the man was right: it messes up your shoes if you get weed cuttings and grass stains on them. It’s worth taking the time to change shoes.

~the man was right about so many things – I’m still learning from him~

Good morning, J and E,
I could share this with you in conversation of course, but then it’s “heard and gone” so I thought I’d put it in writing – some good memories regarding Dad.
I really enjoy working the yard. I’m having to learn a lot of details about how to get things done, in some cases because I simply haven’t known how to do a particular thing before (operating the edger, e.g.), or figuring out how to get a thing done if I’m not strong enough to do it the way Dad did, either in terms of raw strength or perhaps having to do with endurance and ability to stay at it.
In the process of all of this my appreciation for all that he did and how he did it has grown in detail and in focus.
Year after year no matter where we lived, he did the detaily jobs, the big general jobs, the seasonal jobs, the ongoing maintenance jobs – and kept it all going in addition to working a paying job. From time to time I actually did offer to write him a check for the work – in the thousands of dollars – with the caveat that he couldn’t take it to the bank. He always expressed his appreciation but figured since it couldn’t go to the bank maybe just some fresh cookies from the oven would be adequate reimbursement.
The garden hose: he always left it rolled neatly and completely returned to whatever amounted to storage. Here in Woodburn that meant having it rolled and hanging neatly from the units on the side of the house. At the moment, one of them is rolled that way, the other is not. I just can’t always get it done either because I’m tired out or because I think I might use it later and want it to be conveniently laying there – instead of all rolled up. He always maintained that it was worth having it stored properly and, if you needed it again, well – just take it down again. Simple!

The garden shovels: whether the large ones or the little hand ones – after use they were always completely cleaned of any clinging dirt, washed if necessary to avoid dragging dirt around, and then returned to their exact storage spot. I don’t always get the cleaning done as good as he did because I just want to get done but I do always put them back in exactly the same place. That I did internalize from watching him work: if I always put the item back exactly where I got it from, then the next time I need it, it will be right there. And it always is. Funny how that works.
The weeds: I still can hardly grasp the nature of the always-victorious battle he waged with the weeds both here and in Minnesota. When each weed is individually approached by big Scandinavian hands, grasped at the root at ground level, and carefully pulled straight out by the root – that weed is done. Finished. That was the weed creed he lived by and they died by. On that one? I can’t do it. Just can’t do it. I depend on my trusty container of Roundup. Spray or foam. The weeds cringe and die. So our result is the same. Our way of achieving that result is different.
The mowing: When he was going to mow – he mowed. And he mowed until it was done. I can’t do that, even with my light electric mower. I usually have to mow in three or four sessions of about twenty minutes each with a long break between, especially if the sun is shining. He always locked up and completely secured the big gas mower when he was done. I put my littler electric back in the garage. And sometimes the 100’ + of cord lays in a gentle heap for a day or two before I get it properly rolled and stored in its bucket (my innovation for storage) so that it’s ready for easy use the next time out.
The car: how am I ever going to keep the inside of the car neat? He would clean it out periodically – just do it. And I always noticed and appreciated it. I think I might be a messy-car-person, just like I’m comfortable with a messy desk so at the moment I am consciously trying to keep the car as neat and tidy as he left it because I think it might get really messy if I don’t.
These are just a few of the things I am really aware of and I wanted to share them.
He loved you well and always.
He loved me well and always.
Our great blessing.
Love,  Mom

Our extended families never considered work to be an obstacle to be overcome. We learned early in life that any task done well was a righteous source of satisfaction and the need to do it was sufficient reason to get at it and do it well.

~String enough such work together and you end up with such a life~