Mowing the lawn for the last time

For each of the last eight or nine weeks, usually on Saturday morning, I've mowed our host's lawn. The lot is approximately half an acre, so it takes about an hour to complete. It wasn't until I'd been doing it about three weeks I felt comfortable enough with the lay of this small - in the big scheme of things - patch of land to allow myself the luxury and potential distraction of my MP3 player. It took about three weeks more to settle into a regular approach involving mowing in three uninterrupted stages: the east side, north facing backyard, and finally the western strip between the neighbouring lot together with the much smaller front yard.

I came to look forward to this regular hour or so dedicated to a clear, straightforward goal requiring little thought with even less threat of serious complications. I sat down to program my playlist prior to launch, and pleasantly discovered that without any conscious effort on my part the project ended about the time the music did. The playlist always lasted about a song or two longer than the lawn. By the time I'd opened and downed about a quarter of the weekly can of ice tea that completed the ritual, the music was over and I was able to sit back on the patio and enjoy the smell of freshly cut grass for a while.

But today was the last day I will likely ever cut this lawn, and it will almost certainly be quite some time before I touch a lawn mower again. Next weekend we return to Victoria, probably to live in a small apartment somewhere in the city. Opportunities for regular weekend routines involving the same simple straightforward solitary project week after week are not what that lifestyle is known for. While I wouldn't give up returning to Victoria for the world, let alone the chance to mow a lawn every weekend, I'll miss the alternating sun and shade as I pass under the birch tree with each trip across the backyard.

Realizing this morning was the last time I'd be cutting grass for a while brought home the fact Chris and I are again about to embark on a new adventure alone together. Letting the handle go and hearing the engine die signalled yet another approaching milestone in what is going on 18 months of milestones and challenges. It also marked the end of the illusion I knew, more or less, what the next weekend would bring. Once again, there's no denying we don't know what next weekend has in store for us. Even tomorrow is a mystery. Adventure always had a high degree of appeal, but now I have a somewhat better understanding of the comforts of ritual as well.