Damn It! I May Be Getting Old

But there’s hope for the future

It didn’t make me feel too bad to give up shoveling the snow.

I enjoyed shoveling, especially at night. There is nothing more peaceful than being out around 11:00 on a snowy night. When we were in the middle of several days of fairly light snow, I’d go out and shovel, so there wouldn’t be as much to handle the next morning.

I laughed at my neighbors who had snowblowers; our sidewalks were not that long, and most of our driveways ended with the garage, so they weren’t long, either. I thought it was silly to get out a big, hulking snowblower for so small an area, although I admit I did appreciate it when one of them did the sidewalks in front of our house.

They never did the mouth of the driveway or the sidewalk to the house, though, and they were problem areas. We had an awning over our front steps, and it would dump a lot of heavy snow right in front of the front door. And the mouth of the driveway was always a nightmare; the snowplow would pile heavy, dense piles, and there were fewer and fewer places to put the snow as the winter went on. Our driveway mouth tended to get narrower and narrower.

Finally, when I was in my late 50’s, our first snowstorm of the season was 2 feet of concrete. I was far more used to “lake effect” snow, which was fairly light and fluffy. This stuff was the heaviest, wettest stuff I’d ever seen. My husband at the time had had neck surgery and wasn’t supposed to lift more than 10 pounds. One shovelful of that stuff weighed more than that, so I finally gave in, and we bought a snowblower. He chose one that he said was too big for me to handle, so I willingly gave the job of snow removal over to him. When he left after our divorce, I sold the snowblower and hired someone to take care of the snow. That didn’t make me feel old, even though I had always enjoyed shoveling as exercise and time outside.

Mowing the lawn always gave me an equal sense of instant gratification. I loved cutting the heads off little green growing things. Mowing was good exercise and gave me something constructive to do outside in the fresh air and sunshine. Back up North, around the house I lived in for over 20 years, the lawn was divided into the front, the side, and the back by fences. I could choose to do all three or a combination of two or even just one at one time, saving the rest for later, after a rest if I needed one.

Then I moved down here, where the yard is much larger, and I loved that for the dogs. I first saw the yard in December, so I sort of forgot about how much mowing such a large yard would require. I also didn’t know that most of the neighbors have riding lawnmowers for a good reason. The sun is much hotter here than it is in the North.

The first summer I was here, I did the whole lawn myself, often dividing it into sections for different days. When my now-husband moved in in September, he took over all the mowing, but I insisted I do the front lawn, to keep the exercise and fresh air. I also did the sideyard, sometimes not on the same day.

Until this year. This is my fifth summer down here in North Carolina, and I was exhausted partway through the first mowing of the season. I had to force myself to finish it, but it took two rests. I thought, “Well, that’s normal. It will be easier next time.” It wasn’t. Gone was the satisfaction, the joy of accomplishment, the instant gratification. I did it, even though my husband offered to finish it for me because I did not want to admit that this summer, the lawn mower is heavier, and the lawn has gotten much larger.

This morning, before I got up, my husband mowed the whole lawn — back, front, and side. I feel guilty but relieved. He’s about to undergo gallbladder surgery, and he can do what I would have to force myself to do. And I can’t blame age. He’s a year and a half older than I am.

I may be starting to feel my age. It is not a happy thought.

But, on a high note, there is a whole corner of the backyard we’re not mowing anymore because we have a pine forest nursery growing there this year. We have at least 20 baby pine trees that we just found this spring, although a few of them are older. We have teeny, tiny baby fir trees that have planted themselves back there and one way on the other side of the lawn. Some of them are so tiny that we have to watch where we walk to not step on them. We’re thrilled. We’ll never see them reach their full size, and possibly the next owners will mow them down, but for now, we have a small forest growing in our backyard, and we are happy to nurture it.

I may be getting old, but there’s new life in my yard and in my life.

I’m tagging Michelle Teheux and her wonderful article.

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