Learning the Machine

I started with optimism and some YouTube research, and ended up setting the cutting deck at three inches. That seemed about right, I thought. The result was a patchy network of scalped and sunburned sections surrounded by neatly trimmed areas. Some parts of the yard performed great at 3”, but most didn’t like it. Also the sheer size of the 54” mowing deck means that any angle on the machine is reflected in the angle of the cut. 3” means less than 3” on anything other than a flat lawn. A week later and with a bruised ego, I came back at 4”. That solved the problems, but the lawn looked messy. By the end of the first month, I’d found my Goldilocks zone: three and a half inches. Cleared most of the rocks and roots, but still looked neat and healthy.

That should’ve been the end of it. But then came the scalping - those wallet-shaking moments when the deck slammed into a high point and sliced the grass down to its roots, or threw sparks as the blades attacked an unsuspecting rock. That’s when I discovered the importance of anti-scalp wheels and learned how to adjust them properly. Once dialed in, the Toro finally started floating instead of attacking the ground.

Mapping the Land

It didn’t take long to learn that mowing Grandview was going to be a little more complicated than I had expected. It felt like mowing four entirely separate properties - each with it’s own topography, conditions, and challenges. Clearly, I had to learn the land. I began intuitively dividing the property into four distinct zones and learning the details and requirements of each of them.

Upper Field – The pine field. Beautiful, but impossible. Thick with roots undulating above the topsoil, uneven, shaded. Overgrown garden beds along the perimeter. Grass grows in patchy tufts, and the mower bucks like a bronco over every hidden rise. No easy access from the garage without cruising down the road to get there. I’ve learned to pick careful paths, go slow, and manipulate the cutting deck with the foot pedal as I’m mowing. In a few areas - the worst of them - I just steer wide and come back with a weedwhacker. The key for this section is to go slow.

Main Yard – The showpiece. Rolling and open, with soft lines and clean passes. You see it out of most windows in the house. This is where I practice pattern work — diagonal sweeps, alternating angles, clean borders around the gardens. The mower feels at home here. There is one area where the foundation drains terminate, about a hundred feed south of the house and right in the middle of the field, and when that gets wet, the area around it gets very soft. HOW wet determines the approach. A little wet and I can mow carefully. More than a little wet and I come back and “mow” with the weedwhacker. A lightweight push mower would be perfect for this, and for a few other tricky sections of the property, but I don’t have one.

Side Field – The easy one. Flat, high and dry, and forgiving. I can mow this section on autopilot, headphones in, full speed ahead, brain off. It’s the field I save for last, or for the days I’m tired of fighting with this place.

Lower Field – The nightmare and the teacher. Long slopes, boggy patches, buried rocks. In dry weather, the Toro glides like a sled. After rain, it sinks to its axles. I learned to mow this one sideways, feathering the controls, letting the back tires drift to keep from tipping. The rocks are another story — dozens of them, each just tall enough to clip the blades. I know every one by memory now, and I’m already on my second set of blades because of them.

Each field takes roughly an hour to mow, and I’ve learned not to push past two sections per day. That rhythm keeps both the operator and the machine sane.