Landscaping Terrifies Me

      Here's a short blurb to make up for my normal day.  I am terrified of landscaping. I'm fine with raking and mowing and all that jazz, but as soon as anyone says "tiller" or "aerator",  I head for the hills. It's not an irrational fear, mind you. It's due to a literally scarring experience I had when I was younger.

Told you I was cute.

      It's also the reason why my dad is not allowed to babysit the kids while doing yard work. Sorry daddy.

       This story today is about an aerator. I'll post about the time I nearly sliced off the top of my ear with a tiller later.

      Flashback to years ago, when I was a cute little six-year old Brynne. I'm the one who looks like a tiny monster in a denim jumper in this photo, or in other words, I'm on the left with the blonde hair. #borntobewild

     My dad was doing yard work in the spring while my mom was running errands. He hooked the pull-along aerator up to the back of our ride-on mower. Fact: I had my first taste of driving on that mower. I'd often go to mow the back fields with my tiny i-Pod shuffle on, singing my heart out to Shania Twain and Big Country. "Okay, so you're Brad Pitt, That don't impress me much." Preach it, Shania.

     Anyways, my dad had to weigh down the aerator and found that he did not have enough bricks to do so. Instead, he enlisted my cousin, my older sister and myself to ride on the back. To children all between the ages of 11 and 6, it seemed like an excellent idea. Only two of us could sit there at a time, so the odd man out would chase behind and try to tag the others.

     It was actually a brilliant game. We had a blast and achieved much needed yard work at the same time. Kudos to you daddy. Yes, by the way, I do call my parents 'mommy' and 'daddy'. I like it more than 'mother' and 'father'. It seems much more personal and it makes them smile when I say it, and we all know I'm all about smiles.

    But back to my story. I was sitting next to my sister, Alyssa, whilst my cousin, Zack, was chasing us. We were going probably 10 miles per hour on the tractor, but we thought we were flying. Zack was trying to tag us so he could get his turn riding and we were all smiles and giggles.

    In the midst of all our fun, something strange happened. Not just strange but 'Only Happens To Brynne' strange. I fell. 

     I didn't tumble off the back of the aerator safely out of harms way, but I fell off the front. The most terrifying moments of my life were in the few seconds after that. I remember screaming and trying to cover myself as the spikes and the heavy weight of the metal frame, my sister, and the two lone bricks we sat on went over me. I remember what the underside of that death machine looked like and ever since that moment, I have been terrified of them.

The death contraption

     Aerators have cylindrical-shaped tubes, rather than cone-shaped so that way they can remove the bits of soil and grass. They have a sharp pointed edge on one side to dig into the land. It was an absolute tender mercy that they were not cone-shaped as that saved me a lot of pain, but I can tell you this:It's a supremely unpleasant and painful experience.

    I don't know who alerted my dad, but they must have done an amazing job of yelling. It is so hard to hear over the sound of the mower's engines. Looking back, I am shocked he could hear. I don't remember much else except for crying and holding myself on the grass. Fun Fact: I was allergic to grass so this was just adding insult to injury.

    I remember my father carrying me into his room and lying me on his bed. I don't know how long I lay there until my mom returned home, but I was so grateful when she did. There is nothing more comforting in time of distress than an embrace from a caring mother. I don't remember how they treated my injuries though, as I was too absorbed by the pain. I'm certain an obscene amount of Neosporin was involved in the process

    Even at the age of six, I had the sense to guard my face and I am so grateful I did. They're fading now, but throughout my childhood I had round scars up and down the left side of my body. I have one on the back side of my left hand from when I covered my head making me extremely grateful for whatever possessed me and caused me to move protect my head. Had I not, I'd be rocking an eye patch right now. 

     But based on the sheer amount of self-inflicted eye injuries I have, I should be rocking one anyways, but they never did let me have one much to my dismay. I think I'd make an excellent pirate. Ye best believe I would, matey. 

-B