I believe it’s been said that doing the same thing over and over is insanity, but that’s only if you expect a different result.
I have no such illusions.
Now is the Fall of our discontent made glorious…yard work.
As context, let me say that I’m the guy with the mature wooded lot that many people admire as they walk by, whether with family, neighbors, or their dogs. They comment on its beauty to me and walk away in the known surety that they won’t have to deal with it when the wind and rain come calling. Unfortunately, I do. As with all Sisyphean tasks, one either embraces it or curses God, time, humanity, or one’s own stupidity in believing that once done it is forever finished.
Turns out that’s not true.
Consequently, each Fall I work my way through the various stages of deconstruction as the cedars, maples, alders, and pines disgorge themselves of the leaves and needles they no longer deem important to their continuing existence. Wind enhances the experience by following a hard day’s work clearing and raking- and the hubris of a job well done- by blowing more crap all over the place.
This is generally accompanied, hand in hand, by rain, which makes everything wet and heavy. Who doesn’t enjoy dealing with organic glop! And God save the fool who believes Fall cleanup includes the roof, the slippery metal roof, upon which certain death awaits. This includes the annual good humored exchange between man and wife which goes something like this:
“I need to clean the roof,” says the hardy husband.
“What so I can hear you fall to your death?” answers the wife.
“It’ll be a quick death,” I assure her.
“That doesn’t help,” she responds.
For reasons unknown, other than a personal dread of actually plummeting to my death, I have yet to fall off the roof. Yet the leaves and needle persist in falling year after year, and I persist in cleaning them up and sending them off to be composted.
At some point, mainly through exhaustion, I consider the task complete and commend myself for once again putting in the time and energy as I had the year before, and the year before that, and the year before that, and the…
You get the point, even if I don’t.
I also get a week off, give or take, between Christmas decorations going up and coming down, before settling in for the next rite of passage which is prepping for Spring, that glorious week sometime between the middle of March and the end of May when all good deeds are rewarded.
That’s the hope anyway.
©2018 David William Pearce