Down in the Ditch

Where the mower doesn't go

Our Mennonite neighbor has several small businesses and dealerships in addition to his farming operations. Along the highway beside our two mailboxes, he has several signs advertising these enterprises.

Every Saturday, one of his sons mows both sides of our shared lane, from their house, past our house, down to the highway, around the mailboxes and signs, and along the highway for fifty feet or more in both directions. One of our neighbor's sidelines is lawn mower repair, so he probably thinks that keeping the grass cut short is a good business practice.

But down by the mailbox, on the banks of the ditch, where the lawn mower doesn't go, all the plants are growing wildly. I enjoy seeing them.

And I like the little pool of water that stands in the ditch in the springtime. It's interesting. When I stop to get the mail or go for a walk down our road, I stand at the end of the culvert and peer down into the shady depths. Sometimes I see a frog or a turtle or a crawdad enjoying the water.

But even when I see something interesting, I don't go any closer. I like to look at all that vegetation on the ditch banks, but I don't want to wade through it.  There's too much poison ivy!