Our African Queen Weighs a Thousand Pounds

Yesterday, when I got out of my chair on the porch to take my turn pushing the lawnmower up the hill of the front lawn, I yelled to my husband, “I feel like Mr. Allnut!”

For those unaware, Mr. Allnut is the hero of the movie, “African Queen,” who, after having leeches pulled off his back and legs by his beloved, Rose Sayer, heroically reenters the dank, thick water to continue pulling their boat to deeper water and safety.

Of course, mowing our lawn is nothing like pulling the African Queen through the murk with an old rope slung over my shoulder. Still, it is a bitch.

One reason is that our African Queen, a relatively new lawnmower with a rechargeable battery, weighs a lot. I didn’t think of this when I bought it. I just thought about how great it would be not to have to worry about buying gas and oil for the lawnmower. So, carting the recharged batter to the lawnmower, putting it in, and then pushing it around is a BFD. Yes, it has a bar to pull up, so the lawnmower gets a life of its own and takes off across the grass but it’s powerful and scary like a Roadrunner cartoon.

It’s hideous. It’s a hideous lawnmower.

We are both fairly old, although we are not feeble, and we are able to mow a lawn under normal circumstances. However, we have had many years respite from mowing the lawn at all because other people, e.g. our children, took care of it. They also weed-whacked. But, alas, for a variety of reasons – all legitimate if not deeply appreciated – we are on our own with lawn care.

Oddly, and kind of sweetly, much like Mr. Allnut and Rose, we have made this travail a couple’s project. We have sworn not to let one person mow without the other watching (lest we fall over or have some other kind of episode) and we take turns with the hills. Also, yesterday, I whacked my very first weed. By the time I did the perimeter of the yard and started up on the side of the house where things can get a little jungle-like, I weed-whacked like a guy shaping up the median on Milwaukee’s loveliest boulevard. I can whack.

We talked about finding a kid to mow – where are such kids? And about buying a lighter lawnmower. After we finished, we drove by a guy down the block who seemed to be pushing his lawnmower with one finger. I want that for us. We deserve that.

But you know what? When we came back from our errands and pulled up in front of our house, we both said, “Look at that beautiful lawn!” So, I am thinking that our pride of accomplishment, our having pulled the African Queen out of the muck to deeper water, is worth the struggle, the blood, sweat and tears. We’ll never find a kid to mow anyway and we’re too cheap to buy another mower. I think.