See you in the yard, neighbor

Next to the winter coat, let’s hang up our differences for a few hours.

It’s spring. The sun smiles. The yard beckons. Isn’t that enough?

Verily, though these are words that come mid-August many a sweaty North Idahoan may lament, hear them now:

We love to toil on our soil.

The first mow is the sweetest.

Master of the mower, trimmer of the trees; digger of the dirt, shepherd of the shears; rejoice!

There is no better way to get grounded than to feel the earth move under your feet. Especially if it’s your bit of earth.

Sunshine and mid-60s, walk with us.

Sunshine and mid-70s, walk with us.

The spring sojourn is underway, but you’ll never know unless you get outdoors.

Every leaf shyly emerging, every flower timidly arising banishes every snowflake to ancient history. Randy and Cliff promise no more snow — ever! Only sunshine on your shoulders; only lemonade days and lantern-lit nights.

(Then again, as Cliff has been known to say: “I’m in sales, not production!”)

But this is no sales pitch — it’s the truth. There is rejuvenation, a spiritual renewal that greets those who bask in spring cleaning, who indulge in lawn mowing. There is a sense of accomplishment, of positive change that accompanies the forgotten muscles that will ache tonight.

And as you drift off, the scent of fresh spring air dancing with freshly mowed grass seeping through your bedroom window, you will smile and be better prepared for tomorrow’s rigors of standard citizenship.

And maybe our differences won’t look quite so different after all.