Mowing the labyrinth area happens unexpectedly

I am not sure why I decided to make a labyrinth. Mostly I just wondered if I actually could. I would like to think I had a deeper purpose. I probably do, but I am not good at articulating that sort of thing. Concrete practicalities are where I shine.

The first thing I did was to decide where it was to be. Putting it in the lawn would have inconvenienced the lawn mowers to no end, and it would have to be a very spiffy, well-kept version. That required too much maintenance from me as well.

I had no idea lawn mowing was such an exact science. The zen of mowing kicks in too, I've heard.

I tramped around the field for awhile musing. The marker shows where we planted our $10 sugar maple tree. In a few years it will be visible above the grass and in the meantime I didn't want it to be accidentally mowed.

This was taken back in June. Now the tree is no longer visible. Golden rod has replaced the dandelions. 

So  I made a sketch, which shows the two existing paths, which join up further down the slope and end up at the water's edge. I liked the idea of coming upon a labyrinth in the wilderness, as it were.

This shows the view from the back of the cottage and the Friendly Giant's grave aka veggie garden.

Steering well clear of our maple seedling, I placed two markers at what would be the tentative  entrance to the labyrinth area and then four more outlining the circumference to which I tied plastic bags  so they could be seen:

Going down a path to a path seems like fun to me; here is where it will go.

It seemed no sooner had I arranged with our lawn-mowing company to do this work, than the mowers arrived. I was pleasantly surprised. I showed the  foreman my little sketch of the work to be done and brought him up to speed about the meaning and purpose of labyrinths. He looked a bit taken aback, but I figured he simply had not done a lot of labyrinth preparation. He was right into it and suggested using corn to mark the side of the path, as someone had done this effectively in another part of the island. This struck me as a good idea especially as we could later eat the cobs, a strategy that seemed to surprise him for reasons which still puzzle me. In any event, he went ahead and made the initial big circle:

I love those little mowers; they buzz around like hummingbirds.

The labyrinth project gets off to a good start. This is the first circuit.

However, several hours later,  a large truck appeared towing a flat bed trailer on which was a much  larger piece of heavier equipment. I watched as a large burly guy with a shaven head approached the deck where I was standing.   I wondered why the crew had returned. It turned out they hadn't.  It was a different burly bald fellow  Seems the first crew had been there only for the weekly mow.  This explained Burly One's demeanour; I  must admit his sangfroid in the face of what must have been surprising information was impressive.

This job in the field apparently required heavy-duty bush-hogging, hence the new guy and the impressive equipment. I told him his twin had done a very careful job with the smaller mower, which seemed to be still in fine shape upon departure. After a few moments' conversation about other things, which is de rigeur down here,  Burly Two then departed. He seemed slightly disappointed. He told me his next job was to help move some cottager's newly purchased 400-pound statue to a different place on his property.

Of all the crackpot schemes.