He calls it “Whistle While You Work Landscaping.” I quickly learned that the only thing whistling was the wind past my ears as I desperately tried to outrun a rogue tiller. Don't ask; for the love of God, don't ask!! ๐๐๐
PaPa, a.k.a. The Sodfather ๐, has been in the landscaping game since before mulch came in bags. He’s 67 years old, wears cargo shorts year-round, and refers to weed whackers like they’re medieval battle axes. When I asked what my first job was, he handed me a pair of gloves that looked like they’d survived a turf war and said, “We’re starting with edging.”
I thought “edging” was something people paid extra for at salons. Turns out it’s just making the lawn look like it got a fresh haircut. My idea of precision is currently shading the darkened areas around facial features in art—not shaping turf with the intensity of a man sculpting the Sistine chapel of lawns.
Here are some highlights from Day One on Team PaPa:
1. The Shovel Incident
I mistook a spade for a decorative piece. Apparently, when I held it like a microphone and pretended to sing a song from Magic 107.9, PaPa likely reconsidered bringing me along. ๐คฆ๐ฟ♀️๐คท๐ฟ♀️
2. Mulch Madness
Mulch smells like the forest’s armpit. I would likely spill an entire wheelbarrow of it trying to take a selfie or walk without tripping over ghost holes like my Uncle Cai Cai (the shade๐.) PaPa didn’t say a word—just sighed the long, slow sigh of a man who’s seen too much.๐น
3. The Hydration Debate
PaPa drinks coffee from a thermos that looks like it fought in Vietnam. I brought Sparkling Ice and Gatorade. We stared at each other like two species discovering each other for the first time. “That’s not hydration,” he said. “That’s a frog’s snatchety tongue fluid.” Excuse me, huh? ๐คฆ๐ฟ♀️๐น๐คฃ
4. Lawnmower Lessons
He told me to always “mow in straight lines.” I think I might end up creating a crop circle. Someone on the next block is going to come running, asking if aliens landed. PaPa will likely joke, “Yep, and they brought their teenager.” ๐คฆ๐ฟ♀️ It be your own family, guys...
Despite the chaos, something amazing happened.
I got sunburned in weird places. I broke a nail. I now know the difference between fescue and Bermuda grass (honestly, not sure this will ever come up at Starbucks) because TeTe called and warned me about the time PaPa almost killed her while working with him in his landscaping business. But I also saw PaPa in his element—hands in the dirt, smiling at the sight of a well-trimmed hedge like it was a newborn baby.
He told me stories about how he started this business with a $10 mower and a dream; about customers he’s had for decades; about the time he mowed a yard with a giant gash cut in his shin and a toothache because “a man’s gotta mow.”
And me? I sweated, I learned, I laughed, and yes, I cried a little when a spider crawled up my shoe. But I got a hug at the end of the day and a promise of more Starbucks and gift cards which, for a 17-year-old, is the ultimate payment.
Would I do it again? Ask me after I scrub this mulch out of my sneakers.
But for now, I’ll say this: working with PaPa in the landscaping biz wasn’t what I expected. It was better. Dirtier, sweatier, more spider-filled—but better.
Next weekend, I’ll be back. Hopefully with bug spray and more sunblock too.
