How to kill off a lawnmower and other (madbush) stories

The dreaded *back yard*

Lawnmowers you either hate em or you love em. Out there across the globe that familiar drone of the lawnmower will be resonating in the still Sunday morning air, while the neighbours in suburbia try to get their sleep in. People are proud of their lawns. They can spend thousands getting the looks and the height just right. But always - there is that task awaiting the lawn lover. The dreaded mowing ritual. Once, a very long time ago I had a lawn mower. It was the kind of lawnmower one had inherited from two generations back from dear old Grandpa. My ex-husband had taken the good one so here I was left with an ancient Briggs & Stratton 4 stroke mower with a rusting body, wobbly wheels and it smoked badly. For eight restful months I had no need to get out there and perform that dreaded ritual. I was staying at my mothers then while my new home on the farm here was being built and the hard as nails kikuyu grass got higher and higher then over my head.

Having some brains (so I thought) I had my neighbours bring their cattle in to lay waste to that 6 foot plus high grass and knock it over so I could actually see where I was walking without vanishing every few steps down a hole or several. Winter came, and after a few snarly reminders the neighbours finally came and got their cows. By then we had old Edward and the Red Devons here - so the rest had to go. But of course, with the departure came that day when I had to do that dreaded task..mowing my *lawn*. Yes some lawn it was....

It wasn't too bad the first part. I got out the old lawnmower cleared out the sparkplug, put in the new petrol and oil, after a 100 or so yanks the old mower fired up. Off I went with the mower rattling and banging over heck knows what, but at the end of the hour, I had a nicely mowed square of what I thought might be the start of my new front lawn - but then, there was the back of the house to do...
Four legged Lawnmowers do all the work now

I had lunch, shoved back on my gumboots (which weren't leaking at the time) and dragged the old mower with its crooked wheels and rusting excuse for a body around the back, and fired it up again. With grim set determination, an evil gleam in my eye and a very bad attitude towards the rising weeds, off me and the now choking weezing..smoking mower went. I had forgotten all about the foot deep cattle ruts and the huge hunks of lime rock hidden in the jungle like tangle of weeds and kikuyu grass didn't I...one huge crunching sound after the other with me vanishing down a hole every so often as me and that ancient mower murdered the greenery..then...there was an explosion...With black smoke pouring out and strange coughing choking sounds the old mower cranked out its last shudder and died. Yes I had murdered Lord Briggs & Stratton for the very last time. See what happens when you get rid of the cows? So now I just used four legged lawnmowers and herbicide. One day perhaps I might just might get a new mower and murder that too...maybe.


Well some murder mystery this turns out to be..It began with a carrot. Yes I said a carrot. There was the carrot rejected by the human carelessly and uncaringly cast out the window and left to an uncertain fate...The wind and the rain blew upon the carrot all of that dark night and there it remained shivering and afraid ...slowly rotting in the summer. YET it was still certain that perhaps the human might , just might reconsider allowing them back inside..but no human came..

Dawn came and still the poor carrot waited. Still no human came to resuce it from the cruel cold world..then a dark shadow befell up the carrot's now shivering terrified form. It had feathers, was black and it squawked vicously as its beady little eyes beheld the carrot it its hypnotic gaze. The head now angled, the sharp curved beak descending and thus the first murderous blow was struck upon the poor innocent carrot's shrivelled form and the last fading words heard from the carrot, as it was pecked to pieces by an evil black chicken named Maggie the Pecker May were.."Why the heck did I choose to come back as a damned carrot!" And the carrot was never seen nor heard from ever again...

And the rest of the stuff........

Just another day on the Mad Bush Farm. Cats biting each other. Chickens trying to get into my house..again. Weeds getting higher that sort of thing. Sasquatch deciding to get under the sofa blanket when I was trying to straighten things up and falling asleep. Photo could not be resisted.

Quick Farm Sketch of the Day - Summer held by Sue

I thought I might do a farm sketch each day of something to do with farming or farm animals. Just quick ones that aren't grand master pieces but small reminders of why I love living in a rural community. Above is the first one. This is a quick one I did off one of my photos of little Summer who was at Anne and Cameron's farm. Normally a calf so small would end up on the bobby truck..not this one. She's still there a year later and growing fast - reminds me of the Terrorist in a way. Sue was in the shed and picked little Summer up. She was half the size of the calves that were only a few days old and she was a month old! When I ended up with the Terrorist she was just as tiny.


  1. LMFAO
    Liz, crying with laughter here as I could see myself doing the same thing lol.
    Actually, I started a bushfire with our ancient Victor lawn mower up on our bush block but, as funny as the situation turned out, I've never blogged it as some might misinterpret it as me seeing bushfires as a joke, which I don't, but you get the idea of a comedy of errors type thing ;)
    Love your photos and the sketch of the Terrorist :)

  2. Hah hah hah Jayne yeah I was laughing when you mentioned the death of your Victa.LOL Oh the things we do..and what I did was crazy but well a funny story came out of hah hah hah


    Yeah the Terrorist decided to eat my trees yesterday. She's 18 months old now. That drawing is of a calf called Summer - cute too.

  3. I know how to do that!!!! Poor kid...not the kind of thing one would want the talent of.
    hugs (and lol with a few tears)

    p.s. have a link you might want: http://willowmanor.blogspot.com/2010/02/temple-grandin.html