Meet Helga the Mighty

Sometimes you don't know what you need until you fall right into it. We knew we wanted a getaway place, but until we lucked into the farm, we didn't know how much we needed it.

And until the first time I spent three hours mowing the meadow, I didn't know how much mowing was my happy peaceful zen place.

A month after the farm became ours (in that super grass growing month, our amazing neighbor Farmer Joe mowed the meadow), we found a riding lawn mower on Craig's List, wrestled it into Phrodaux's ancient truck, and trundled it on down to the farm. Despite the cracked seat, the temperamental starter, and the self-destructing belts, the mower and I had some lovely times. 

Over the next three years, the mower caught just a little bit on fire only two times. Once from the cracked gas tank (the mower store said that serial number didn't exist) and once because the free-floating battery was rubbing up against something. Mice made nests inside the screen above the engine a couple of times. The seat cracked more. The mower belt broke, go team. But I loved my mower, loved the noisy calm, the smell of camomile, the satisfaction of turning my unwieldy meadow into something like a lawn.

But this spring, it became clear: $300 on Craig's List does not get you four seasons of mowing. Three, sort of. But not four. Little mower started mowing for 30 seconds at a time; then it was disengage blade, mower in neutral, reach down to pull long grass out of the blade. Problem 1: This made mowing take forever. Problem 2: At some point the Fairy Queen would forget a step and become the Pirate Hook Queen. Problem 3: That mower weighs a lot more than I do and I am DONE with pushing it back to its designated shed (so glad no one filmed those moments).

And so...after a little bit of shopping (we tried the John Deere store, really we did, but they were smarmy and then Farmer Joe said think about something else), we found Helga the Mighty. Here she is:

She starts in an instant. No cursing dance required. She cuts the grass! Without a lot of kerfuffle over cleaning out the blades every ten seconds. Her seat is smooth and lovely.

She even has a cup holder, but the farm is not a golf course so my water bounces right out. Whatever. I put in my squishy ear plugs, put on my farm girl hat, and activate my internal sound track. It takes about an hour instead of 3, but it's all good. Helga, Fairy Queen, meadow, done.

BTW: Follow Adam Savage's advice. Buy a cheap tool, figure out how you are going to use it, then decide if you need a fancy one. Yes, I needed a fancy one. But it has a fabricated steel deck that rocks cannot penetrate! With a lifetime warranty! And our newish friend, Electric Hipster (really truly honest to goodness he chose that name!), gave her the perfect name.

Hey, Helga. If it's dry this weekend...want to mow?