“July Pastimes”

By

Gerry Niskern

Every day while walking I listen to the rush of water plunging from the pumps along the irrigation ditch. The pampered, pristine lawns I pass by are watered by irrigation. The other day I was reminded of an amusing E-mail story concerning our resident’s preoccupation with grass.

‘God was talking to St Francis and asking whether the people on earth were enjoying the variety of grasses and wild flowers he had provided. He was flabbergasted to learn that people on earth got rid of all of them and planted plain grass around their houses instead. . He was even more bewildered to learn that they water it faithfully, but then pay to have it cut…..and hauled away!’

We all know the pleasure of smelling newly mowed grass. As a kid, it was right up there with rolling down a grassy knoll then climbing to the top and rolling down again.  Another summer pastime was playing in the irrigation water.

When I was a child here in Phoenix on special days shouts were heard in our neighborhood, “They’re irrigating the capitol grounds!”  Kids for blocks around the state capitol would race to don bathing suits and head for the lush grass around the capitol. (This was before the politicians decided to cover most of those beautiful grounds with government buildings). When we got there the clear, cool water was pouring into the areas between the sidewalks. We ran and played in knee high water; only once in a while accidentally splashing the state office ladies walking to lunch.

When the irrigation evaporated, we turned to lawn sprinklers.  On any hot day in July somebody’s mother would be watering their grass, using a variety of whirling sprinklers.  We kept cool running in and out of the crystal droplets.

My father cut his grass on Saturday afternoon.   He was grateful he hadn’t listened to helpful neighbors back east when they advised him, “Don’t pay to haul your lawn mower to Arizona. You won’t need it. The yards out there are all sand.”

About the age that I was playing in the irrigation water as a child, my husband said he was running a grass cutting business.  He even had one customer out by Camelback Road and Lateral 14. He transferred twice on the city bus to reach the expansive grounds of that country home.

Years later when we moved into our first home, he couldn’t wait to get the lawn started. (How he would have loved the luxury of ordering a few rolls of sod!)   He was so proud to be the first guy in the subdivision to cut his grass.

I can’t say he was so thrilled later when he spent hours pulling and digging bullhead weeds out of the Bermuda grass. Nothing hurts the tender feet of little ones like the sharp prick of a dry bullhead burr. Daddy was happy when the owners of those little feet grew big and he decided they could take over the mowing chores. He even brought home a used riding mower.  # 1 son was delighted since he was planning on being the next Andretti.  He loved to see how fast that baby would accelerate. After we lost a small grapefruit tree, guess who was back in the mowing business?