I first celebrated Earth Day (April 22) at 17 years old when I read environmentalist Rachel Carson's "Silent Spring" and bought a "Save the Earth NOW" T-shirt. It took weeks to convince my best friend's dad I wasn't leading his daughter down the path of feminism by enlisting with the National Organization of Women.

At 22, I stood in my university's Free Speech Area and tie-dyed hemp T-shirts with the president of the Earth Club. The only hippie my age I'd ever met, she was a self-professed expert on mushrooms and all things natural.

At 35, I led our church's first- and second-graders to plant a shade tree for a proposed playground and welcomed my third nephew, Benjamin Grant, into the world. They don't need to know about the T-shirts — or mushrooms.

But the most extensive Earth Day endeavor I've ever undertaken began so purely I was confident it could not fail. It was the day I decided I needed a reel lawnmower.

I announced my intentions to do away with the gas-guzzling, dirt-stirring, noise-inducing model of old and go as natural as I could without clipping the yard by hand. My supportive mother found the exact item I needed in bright red the following week during her garage sale jaunts.

The hardly-used, deeply-discounted mower was a thing of beauty. It would banish our neighborhood's ozone cloud. It would make me exercise without having to leave my yard. It would trim the grass to an acceptable level with a gentle swoosh of blades. Without the original box, I was unaware of the small print. All of this is true if you have a level, treeless, small yard, i.e. "well-manicured."

We, on the other hand, have a hilly, pecan and maple treed, corner lot. My weekly exercise intentions quickly became a daily workout. It didn't take long to relate to Dr. Seuss who must have based his yellow pets, the Zeds from "One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish" on his own lawn experiences.

"They need a haircut every day."

I also expected the pushmower to be speedy — which it might have been had I not dealt with sticks, sweet-gum balls and pecan shells dropped by our friendly, well-fed tree squirrels. My son, who could now play outside while I mowed, quickly learned that a cry to call 911 meant grabbing the cordless phone and responding, not coming over to see how many extremities I might have lost unclogging the blades.

My mower also determined it was gate security of the grass club. Turns out anything over 6 inches tall (defying a bar in front) got to stay. Tall weeds, thorns and mexia grass continued to party like the chaperone was looking the other way.

This year, rather than turfing the entire yard (as he had originally suggested when we moved in nine years ago), my husband Jack decided to give me a summer of reprieve from sweat-inducing lawn flashbacks. We recently bought a self-propelled mower. I would have preferred the elf-propelled model advertised at our local hardware store because, in these economically trying times even Santa's helpers could use the extra income, but Jack had a coupon so we went to Lowe's instead.

So now we burn a little fossil fuel and drive the squirrels and birds away. Then we're done with time to sit and enjoy the fruits of our labor — which leads me to my next earth-friendly experiment. How much room do you need to grow an herb garden?

Rachel Stallard is a freelance writer based in Kilgore. E-mail: rachel@gentlelambpublishing.com.

Editor's note: Voices, an East Texas conversation, appears on Fridays. Send submissions to Ana Walker, P.O. Box 1792, Longview TX 75606 or awalker@longview-news.com