Dusk Lawn

Dusk Lawn 
By John R. Greenwood

There's something special about mowing the lawn late in the day in October. The smell and feel of the air has the heft of a bag of wet leaves. It sticks to your lungs in a good way. I love being the last man standing out there in the yard in that after 5 o'clock lawn race. It's that fall adrenaline rush of trying to get everything cleaned up in time for that first blanket of snow. Fall is my favorite season by far. Yes the colors are one good reason but the clincher is the air. The snap that it has revives my spirit. It brings me back to backyard football games and burning leaf piles. The first day you dig out your favorite fall fleece, sweatshirt, or corduroy shirt always produces an extra spark to your pace. I'm not talking about the first day you head out the backdoor to find a sheet of frost on your windshield. By that time the fall high has tailed off a bit. I like those semi-cool evenings when the leaves rest softly on top of the fresh high grass just waiting to be crushed into leaf-crumbles and ground down into the soil.

The tracks of the mower wheels are more pronounced, more deliberate in the damp fall lawn. Your hard work stands out more as if to say, "Look at me!" I am trim and fit and ready for Halloween. The lights of autumn help a great deal. Whether they come from a passing car on it's way to the mall or from the timed garage lights that seem anxious for you to go inside. The mixture of smell, touch, and light create a palette for the senses that linger year after year. I hate to see the summer end. So many more things I would have liked to have done. Oh well, there's always next year? 

So here I am after falling 57 times and each one has something new to offer. This one is being documented in photos and words. Thank you Mother Nature for your hard work and expertise. You put together another fine display this year. I appreciate you letting me be a part of it one more time. I look forward to many more. If you could possibly send us another winter like you gave us last year it would be great. Why the old Toro snowblower didn't even muss his hair last year.

It's getting late now.
I think I smell hot coffee...