I've been watching the field across the street with interest. After twenty years (the time I've lived here) of this field being planted alternately in beans or corn, this Spring, Kim decided not to lease the land but instead put in something he can use for his 12+ horses.
My friend, Jim, asked me, "So, isn't he essentially just mowing his lawn?
Sure, he's just mowing his lawn if you can't smell the hay. He's just mowing his lawn if you can't hear the tractor pocketa-pocketa-pocketa-pocketing across the field -- plowing into waist-high, breeze-blown heather-green stalks and leaving them behind in silver-green rows. He's just mowing his lawn if you cannot hear the mourning dove doing its ocarina call from the wire above, or see the impossibly azure sky on a shockingly cool July afternoon.
Then, sure, he's just mowing his lawn.
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