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A family myth is that I was bred to mow the family yard in Northeast Portland Oregon USA. Sometime in autumn (or fall as we called it) the grass would quit growing. At the time, I didn’t think about the symbolism of fall as the beginning of decline into the winter representing death. At least in the Northern Hemisphere. Now that I’m old, the cycle of birth, youth, decline and death as it applies to my own life is clear.
My father had jerry rigged an electric motor onto a reel mower. I frequently cut the cord to the mower causing him extra work. Spraying weeds from a large container of weed killer, and raking leaves from the willow trees went along with the mowing. The raking was late summer or fall.
