Forgive me, Father, I have sinned.

It has been three weeks since I last mowed the lawn.

I know, Lord, the crabgrass has gone to seed and the ragweed stands proudly at the back of the "garden." And yes, Lord, I know it's presumptuous to call a small plot containing five azaleas, two dogwoods, a maple and a hosta a "garden," but give me a break. I'm trying to manage a house and somehow keep up with a two-year-old all while preparing for another son and getting in an hour or two of writing a day. I'll admit that the garden hasn't gotten its due.

And it's true, Lord, that while you, in your wisdom, have provided a wide array of combustion-powered lawnmowers for my use, all ready and willing to mow forever as long as I keep pouring gasoline down their gullets. And I, foolishly perhaps, instead bought a lawnmower with a rechargeable battery. A battery that isn't quite powerful enough to mow a lawn of foot-high wet grass. Or, more specifically, my lawn of foot-high wet grass. But hey, buying a lawnmower that doesn't always get the job done the first time is what that whole free will thing is all about, right?

Nonetheless, I did mow the front yard today. I realize that you, in your wisdom, provided a bevy of shade trees and slow-growing grass up there, which ensures that the grass won't get too untidy, even if left alone for three weeks in the summer, but you have to admit that giving the front a trim is a start.

And what about the weather this summer, hunh? Record heat and near-record rain? Lord, that's just not fair. I left Florida for a reason. I didn't like the summers. More specifically, I didn't like that summer in Florida runs from April to October. Did you realize that we had only two days in May this year when the high temperature fell below 80 degrees, and those days were the first and the second? I'm not even going to mention the humidity.

I know, I know. If Jon won't go to Florida, then Florida must come to Jon. It's still not funny.

I do give thanks for the complete lawnmower overhaul earlier this year for "only" $150. There's no way I could have afforded the purchase of a new electric lawnmower, what with the impending and all.

And thank you for the growth of the trees. I think the maple has added four feet this year. At that rate, it ought to be real pretty in a couple years. And both of the dogwoods we planted a year ago have budded out impressively in anticipation of next spring.

But Lord, back to the lawn. Do you think you could quit sending hurricanes our way. Counting today's incoming storm, we'll have endured the rain (if not the wrath) of four named storms this month. This is August, remember? The month when hurricanes hit Florida? That second blast from Charley (a near direct hit on the house we rented for a week--starting on the day of the storm's arrival) was a real hoot. And now Gaston, a windy thunderboomer with massive amounts of rain. Did you send Noah off with four freakin' hurricanes? I don't think so. So stop it.

Please?

See, the lawnmower doesn't do very well with wet grass, and even though it hadn't rained for a week the grass was still dripping wet at noon today. I managed to get around the back yard (known by Max as "where the 'squitos live") four whole times, leaving vast stretches of crabgrass wilderness left to be conquered.

Is it really your intention to force me to buy one of those loud, polluting gas hogs? Do you really think that mowing the lawn every weekend is the best way to jump-start that protestant work ethic that I abandoned a couple minutes after learning of its existence? Do you think that watching spiders and snakes flee the mower blade is the best way for me to appreciate nature?

I really don't want to sound ungrateful or anything. But could you shut down the oven and turn off the spigots? That way I ought to be able to catch up on the lawn by, say, November. And maybe I'll have some time to do little bit for peace on earth and good will toward mankind.

Hey, I'll even throw in a vote against the Prez.

Do we have a deal, or what?

Jon Worley wrote this column with green hands.