The weather has turned cold here in Seattle. Nothing like what most of the nation is experiencing, to be sure, but cold nonetheless. The leaves that haven’t fallen are withered and frostbitten on their stems, and the remnants of Autumn’s glory now lie in patches of brown detritus scattered across the gardens.
On clear, cold afternoons, when the sky is a robin’s egg blue and the sun has just melted the frost off the shaggy lawns, I hear the machinery of modern yard maintenance fire up. Mowers, blowers, strimmers, and edgers set up a whirring, sputtering rumble that blankets the neighborhood as homeowners take advantage of a rainless November day.
For myself, I prefer to use manual tools when possible. The lawnmower, the strimmer, these I keep and use, but on bright autumn days I reach instead for the rake, the broom, and the shovel to tend my garden. I spend so much of my day working nothing but my mind–analyzing systems, cross-checking code, diagramming solutions, navigating interoffice politics–that the thought of surrounding myself with machinery and noise is abhorrent.
Before I step outside, I bundle up with scarf and gloves and quilted overshirt, but soon, as I warm to my task, these layers drop away. It takes me longer to tidy my garden than it does my more mechanized neighbors–yesterday, after a couple hours’ work, I only cleared out the patio and lower section of the back garden–but it’s a quieter time, and that’s what I want.
Peace. Serenity. Take in a clean, cold lungful of air and let it out in a frosty breath.
Repeat.
k
Unraveling Time
Desert Wind
Ploughman's Son
Ploughman King
The Year the Cloud Fell
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The Cry of the Wind
Beneath a Wounded Sky
Cryptogenesis: A Memoir
Kurt R.A. Giambastiani 
Ah! Kurt! At one time I had a yard, both front and back, with all sorts of plant life – and ten trees to tend to. And I did the chores very much like you describe. But here in Mexico as a tenant, I sometimes get to trim with a weed whacker. Big deal. I miss that communion with nature a lot.
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For conifers, we have four 60-80′ spruces, one 60′ noble, one 50′ pine, a small cedar, and a cluster of cypress trees. For deciduous, we have vine maples, a couple Japanese maples, a chain-tree, a sweetgum, a mountain ash, and two apple trees. And that’s just the back garden.
Needless to say, I have plenty of leaves and needles, this time of year. I keep them all in the garden, though. Some go into the compost, but most I just rake together to build up the mulch and humus under the trees. The one tree we had to take down last winter is now lying as “nurse” logs, throughout the garden. This year’s fall mushroom bloom was amazing, so much so that I ordered a book to help me identify the dozen or so varieties I noted after the last rains.
I don’t mind visiting more austere climes, such as your corner of Mexico (I lived in Jerusalem for a couple years, and it was…stark), but for a day-to-day existence, I love my trees and the ecosystem I’ve been building in the back garden.
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I’m with you on the rake, the broom, and the shovel, Kurt. Then I can hear the birds commenting on my work, the ground and the leaves crunching beneath my boots, the shivering of the dry leaves that still cling to the trees, the subtle breezes moving through the cedars.
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I would prefer a bamboo rake like the one we had when I was a kid, rather than the metal-tined one I have now, but it’s still better than a smoky, gas-powered leaf blower.
As I raked the leaves towards a pile, the juncos came along behind me, inspecting what I’d revealed. More to do today, weather permitting.
–k
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