After an arduous struggle, and some tenacity on my part, I started the lawnmower for, perhaps, the last time this year. It sputtered and spewed out clouds of foul smoke while arguing incessantly for the first few minutes. But my sheer determination overrode any attempt on its part to not rise to the task at hand.
The sweet smell of wet, fresh-cut grass mixed with the pungent odor of rotting crimson leaves made the battle very worthwhile. Since I live on my own once again, I am the master of indoor and outdoor responsibilities. Cutting the lawn is my favorite outdoor job. Trimming those lengthy blades of grass is thirty minutes of pure escape. It requires constant movement and the noise from the engine all but negates the possibility of any interruption. And the odoriferous fragrances of fall that permeate my nose make the task that much more pleasing. Newly shredded Oak and Maple leaves are combined with the grass to create not only a colorful spectral portrait, but a fusion of smells that is unrivaled.
With the falling of the leaves and the inevitable frost that comes most nights, I don’t look at it as an ending. Each season brings with it new possibilities and new beauty. Although there is a vast chasm between the rainbow of colors in October and the stark landscape through November until the snow flies, there is still an unwavering sense of peace and solitude that comes with that unending, brown panorama.
As the days grow shorter and the mercury on the thermometer fails to climb, my dog is waiting with great anticipation of the first snowfall. Admittedly, I may not be as ready for the emergence of winter, but I do eagerly await the fresh crispness of the air and the stunning dance of the snowflakes as they playfully race to the ground.
With a hearty dose of snow-shovelling and roof raking to bide my time through the blustery winter months, my lawnmower will be tucked away, bundled up in the safe confines of my gazebo. Get some rest, my feisty friend. You and I will be doing battle again soon enough.