Tomorrow is the shortest day of the year, but that didn't stop me from jumping on the mower when I got home to cut the lawn. Mowing in the dead of winter might be a foreign concept to most of you (and yes, I know I've written about this subject before but it still strikes me as strange every time I do it), but the lawn was actually getting a bit scruffy looking. At 5:10, the sun touched the horizon; at 5:30, it was completely out of site; and at 5:45 it began to get difficult to see where I'd cut. It was dark at 6, but I had finished and was inside eating dinner.
I bet some of you thought I had drag raced and vanquished a Pontiac (which my turbo beast could do pretty easily), but I was speaking of actual mowing this time.

