I Think, Therefore I Mow

The latest Athwart column (forgive me if this is behind the paywall, current articles usually show up on NRO after a while) was more spot-on than usual for me. I have described Lileks as our Robert Benchley; this piece reminded me of "The Menace of Buttered Toast." (Look it up. Benchley is always a pleasure.)

My Husqvarna chariot makes it possible for an old guy with a bad back to spend hours making the clippings fly. The 45-acre arboretum where we live, designed and mostly planted by my granddad, is full of nooks and crannies, and mowing gives me a great excuse to visit them. The Point projects out into the Big Pond, with an oak in the middle and tables made of stone slabs that were too big to use in the house. The North Pond is home to two 60-foot sequoias, one of which is a Metasequoia, the prehistoric ancestor of the giant tree that California is famous for. The West Lawn has ginkgo trees and a couple of smaller sequoias, as well as a Franklinia that I need to replace; it flowered five years ago but has been dying since. They flower in November, which was weird enough to please Granddad. There's a shaded acre where he transplanted trillium bulbs that look spectacular when they come out; it's anchored by an Elephant Ear Magnolia with leaves the size of beach towels. Across the pond is a nook where the kids have put their beehives — beekeeping is something they have been studying and discussing for years, and this year they took the plunge. The bees like it here; they have already had to divide one hive. Other unusual trees include a weeping larch, a line of black walnuts marching along the south of the property, which were meant to be harvested for furniture at some point, and the largest documented osage orange in New York.

I get regular visits from state foresters checking on our various certified rare and unusual trees. I wish they would come by soon. Something is clobbering my boxwoods, and I don't know if it's an invasive moth that has been reported nearby or something else. They put out traps for spotted lanternflies a couple of months ago, and I'll ask when they come to check on those. We don't have any ash trees, but the damn lanternflies have ruined neighborhoods in nearby towns like Batavia and Lockport.

So there's lots to meditate on, think about, and wonder about as I'm squaring up my corners and drawing lines across the open parts, just as James describes in his latest column. I definitely want "I Think, Therefore I Mow" on a T-shirt. One of those long-sleeved shirts that are impregnated with bug repellant and sunscreen (I have three of them; they work).