#mow grass

[fakedimebag]

Parking one of these in the yard to let the Jehova's witnesses know I mow grass, eat ass, raise hell, and praise Dale before they ring my doorbell.

[dyrdeer]

i could write a novel about how fucked up lawn culture in the US is, but its not an individual's problem (nothing ever is). If I didn't have to cut the grass I wouldn't, they dutifully send workers out to make sure you cut your grass under penalty of up to 300+ dollars here. Doesn't matter if you're disabled or poor or just don't have the time. Doesn't matter that you weren't responsible for planting invasive grass that grows longer than the government deems "safe". They'll tell you to mow it to keep ticks away but don't care about all the other native species and pollinators that it also displaces. They ignore you if you point out all the publicly owned land thats overgrown because they can't make money from forcing themselves to mow. Its not about safety, its about hegemony, aesthetics, and oppression of poor/disabled people. In my opinion, as well as others', we need to move towards killing our lawns and replacing this shit with native flowers and plants - however a lot of these personal pollinator gardens are cut down by the city as well because most grow over 9 inches. We need to make a huge, sustained push to not have to mow our lawns and im not fucking kidding

[lotrmusical]

here's a poll. what are everyone's takes on this frodo moment in fellowship

'He wished with all his heart that he was back [at Bag End] and in those days, mowing the lawn, or pottering among the flowers, and that he had never heard of Moria, or mithril - or the Ring.'

[anotherdayforchaosfay]

My husband has officially destroyed the lawn. He soaked the entire front yard in weedkiller. "Faster than waiting for it to compost."

The soil is now destroyed and a barren wasteland. I had planned on composting the yard in order to make it fertile and ready for native wildflowers. It would've been cheap and just a couple years od waiting.

Now?

Gotta remove all the destroyed soil and replace it because this is poison. Nothing will grow in it.

"Make it a box and pot garden."

That's actually more expensive. I need to acquire containers and soil, and something to cover what is now dirt because there are no roots holding anything down. This is a disaster.

He's upset I'm not grateful about him saving me time and work.

I cannot plant anything in the ground. This will take years to replace, and a lot more money.

This man wants to cover the backyard in cement and rocks with just a container garden. The only thing stopping him is lack of money and everyone else informing him he is being very stupid.

Any suggestions for how to deal with the dust bowl disaster of a front yard? It's full sun, zero shade, and likely little to no rain until September. I want wildflowers, native plants, plants that can help dirt recover into soil, attract butterflies and birds, low maintenance (wildflowers self-seed), and possibly a herb tower.

[darkwood-sleddog]

Just a girl and her wildflower “lawn”.

[luminarai]

People who look down on blue collar workers and tradespeople are so weird. Just say that you’ve never had to do a day of physical labour in your life and go

[theultimateultimateweapon]

Sometimes your lawnmower just has a loooot of personality

[queerdiazs]

tease tidbit tuesday <3

i was tagged by @callmenewbie, @wildlife4life, @try-set-me-on-fire, @disasterbuckdiaz, @rogerzsteven, @hippolotamus, @giddyupbuck, @ladydorian05, @daffi-990, @jesuisici33, @loserdiaz, and @wikiangela mwah 🫶🏼

have a long tease from hoa eddie, where eddie's grossly in love with buck's big tits and honestly i can't blame him

Eddie sighs, turns around, and nearly runs right into Buck’s big, naked, hairy chest.  “Eddie—” “Where’s your shirt?”  Buck blinks. “I was mowing the yard and I got hot,” he replies, shrugging sheepishly.  He wants to bitch at Buck for mowing the yard, for taking his shirt off and getting grass all over himself, for inadvertently causing a scene because his big fat bleeding heart always seems to get him in trouble, but it’s Buck, sweet and stubborn and soft Buck, and he’s standing in front of Eddie, bare-chested and sweaty and a little breathless with blue eyes so large and wide and childlike, expecting Eddie to be upset when he’s not, not in the slightest, and all Eddie can do is smile and undo the snaps on his button down when he realizes Buck’s shivering, cold and clammy now that the sun has set. He has another shirt beneath, anyway.  “Grass is worse than sand, Buck,” he says, handing his shirt over. “Put this on. You’ll want to shower as soon as you can, so just stay the night again. I’ve got a load of your clothes in the dyer.”  Buck does as he’s told, pulling on the button down. It’s a size too small, dragging across his broad shoulders and barreled chest; the buttons stretch open over his torso, giving Eddie a peak of the curly hair between his tits, and his nipples are hard, tiny nubs beneath the fabric that draw Eddie’s attention, and he licks his lips. He’s seen Buck shirtless a hundred times before, sure, but he never realized how huge Buck’s tits really were until now, so big beneath his shirt they stick out like actual boobs.  He wonders how heavy they’d feel in his hands, if Buck would make pretty sounds when he squeezed the fat or pinched his nipples till they’re red and swollen.  Huh. That’s new. 

gonna no pressure tag @honestlydarkprincess, @eddiediaztho, @eddiebabygirldiaz, @eowon, @watchyourbuck, @exhuastedpigeon, @thewolvesof1998, @shitouttabuck, @housewifebuck, and whoever else mwah mwah

[toxooz]

Reminder 4 me to draw Ollie mowin his lawn when im able to

[pizzawithwine]

pov your garage is your gym 🛠️

[ceruleanseacreations]

Rotom mow ✨💚🍃

[weepingfoxfury]

The Sunday easy listening man on the radio starts with Elton John and 'Daniel' before the next singer declares 'The Sun Has Got His Hat On.' Adverts, adverts, adverts insist you have a need for car insurance, care in the home and getting yourself to your local garden centre as the BBQ stuff is on sale. The Emerald Isle, being as wet as it is, no doubt there's rust treatment free with every BBQ purchase.

Astonishingly, there is indeed sunshine, so 'The umbrella' will not be fought over today. No Mow May is being encouraged and yet my friend (who has quite some mower collection) insists on giving all his roaring monsters an outing. I am updated hourly with scenes of grassy carnage.

'The Garden of Eden' sung by Frankie Vaughan queries whether a beautiful woman could simply be left there. Could you leave her? In that Garden of Eden? Only if she has no mower to hand!

The Emerald Isle has sit on mowers like you wouldn't believe. No matter the size of the garden ... postage stamp or park ... round and round they go. I've watched people drive them along the road. One particular gentleman had a bright yellow one (most here are orange or green) ... he tortoised his way past me as I walked my dog one day ... gaily waving to all and sundry ... who knows where he was headed? Maybe he's still out there on the road somewhere.

Ach well ... time for more coffee ... and maybe I'll pull out my old stripey deckchair. The dogs may even let me have it to myself. Sunday, Sunday, Sunday ... crows, bees and a multitude of birds and currently (phew!) not a mower to be heard ...

[kandidandi]

today i saw a plover on a patch of un-mowed grass surrounded by mowed grass

[cranberrytea451]

He’s mocking me.

Context: https://www.tumblr.com/cranberrytea451/722945971919667200

[loserharrington]

Steve is the type of guy to have an imaginary rivalry with one of his neighbors.

He tends to his garden, puts his blood sweat and tears into it because That Guy down the street just trimmed his bushes so obviously that means he’s trying to show Steve up, yeah?

And on Halloween That Guy goes all out and well… Steve can’t have that, now can he? So he gets bigger and better decorations than him only to find that That Guy is playing his electric guitar on the fucking roof all night. The kids on the street love it, all crowed around his house and Steve is left bitter about the amount of candy he still has by the end of the night. Show off…

So for Christmas he hauls himself up on the roof to hang up a million lights and a blow up Santa by the chimney and he thinks he’s finally done it. Out done That Guy but when he looks over he sees that That fucking Guy has Santa’s workshop in his yard along with all of his reindeer, and Steve can’t take it anymore.

Robin tries to talk him out of it, tell him “He’s probably not doing it on purpose, Steve!” but Steve has to know. Who the hell is this guy and why has he started this war against him when all Steve wanted to do was plant flowers and light up the neighborhood with his Christmas/Halloween spirit?

So he marches over there, crossing the street for the first time in Ever, and knocks on the door with such a determination that he shook the entire house. And when That Guy opens up, smile bright and mischievous, Steve’s brain completely flatlines because

Shit. Shit, he never really saw it before seeing as he had pretty terrible eye sight and you don’t normally notice these thing when you’re too busy glaring but…

That Guy is fucking hot. Objectively… He’s got long curly hair and full pink lips and eyes he could get lost in—

“Well, hello neighbor. To what do I owe the pleasure on this lovely winter evening?” That Guy looks to him, knowing. Seeing. Seeing the way Steve struggles to articulate his thoughts. To get himself in line. To think of anything but his wolfish grin and chocolate button eyes.

“I was just… I was just wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner tomorrow. With me and my sister Robin.”

No. No, that is not what he was going to say. Damnit, Steve.

“Your sister?” he asks. “I was told you were roommates.”

Steve rolls his eyes, actively trying not to think about the fact that Robin must have already introduced herself to this guy. “Not the point.”

“It’d be nice to know your name first before coming in and eating all your food, yeah?”

Steve blinks. Oh yeah. He still didn’t know what That Guy’s name was other than the chicken scratch Munson carved into his old rotting mailbox. (Steve had lost his own mailbox in a driving lesson with Max. He had yet to find time to replace it.)

He holds out his hand. “Steve. Steve Harrington.”

“Eddie. Eddie Munson. Nice to finally meet you, Neighbor. I’ve been loving our little game of war this past year.”

“I fucking knew it!”

[cuzikan]

Just a friendly reminder now that the weather is changing and yard work is starting. Please avoid blowing grass into the streets. It creates a horrible hazard to our motorcycle enthusiasts!