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Community Corner

Blowin' in the Wind

Finding satisfaction—and purpose—in doing my own yard work.

I’m having a love affair with my leaf blower.

I never thought I’d be someone who found satisfaction in doing my own yard work. My dad enjoys a little light gardening here and there, and my mom has great success growing indoor houseplants and even an orchid or two. I, on the other hand, am like the black plague to plants, so it seems the green thumb skipped a generation.

I envy my next-door neighbors. She’s the kind of person who looks at a plant and knows the genus, family and common name. He’s incredibly handy inside the house and out, and is a wealth of information and help whenever we’ve needed it. “Poison ivy spray? Sure, I’ve got it!”

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When job change woes , we made some major adjustments in order to cut back our household expenses. One of the first things on the budgetary chopping block was landscape help.

So my husband and I took over the responsibility of taking care of our wooded Wilton, CT property. The previous owners had been South Africans yearning for the lush gardens of their native land. They’d planted many vibrant plant beds and they’d laid gravel with stepping stones to form paths around our house.  When we bought the house, little did I know about what it would take to do the upkeep ourselves.

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But this summer I learned to figure out the difference between weeds and keepers, and my husband mowed the lawn with a mower on loan from our experienced friend next door. We made just one expenditure—we purchased a leaf blower.

Fast forward to fall. While being surrounded by close to two acres of wooded Wilton wonderment—i.e. lots and lots of trees—might do wonders for my property value, it certainly means my leaf blower gets lots and lots of work.

And trust me, it was lots of work over both of these two past weekend days. We’ve had a busy September and October, so this was the first weekend my family was able to really spend any time working around the yard. Weeks of fall had passed without us clearing anything; compounded with several heavy rainfalls, it meant lots of wet, heavy yard waste to clear.

But there’s something so empowering about blowing leaves. I’m not a yoga acolyte, I have trouble falling asleep at night—but gosh darn it, I think I finally learned how to meditate and relax, and all it took was two days with a noisy, power machine.

One of the things I meditated on during my two days of removing the carpet of leaves was a conversation I’d once had with a Wilton resident prior to our move here four years ago. I’d popped into a local store to see if I could spark a conversation with anyone about what it was like to live in this part of the metropolitan area.

This woman was candid—and brutal—in her answer: “This is an area of haves and have-nots. My kid’s friends ask why his daddy mows the lawn. They can’t understand why we don’t have a gardener. If you don’t have money here, you’re nothing.”

I think she was extreme in what she was saying; she seemed angry in general anyway, so I took her comments with a grain of salt. But it resonated, and I clearly remembered what she had to say in the four years since deciding to move here, despite her words of caution.

Finding myself doing my own heavy labor, now likely qualifying as what that woman would probably call a “have-not,” I felt something more positive and entirely more uplifting instead. We were able, self-sufficient, and resilient. My leaf-blower and I, we could accomplish anything.

My South African-inspired flower beds are shutting down for the coming cold. I’ll be making sure to keep up with my lawn chores more regularly until the snow falls. Once it does, we’ll still be paying someone else to clear the drive—we have one of those long, windy driveways popular in this neck of the leafy woods, and it’s too much to shovel on our own.

Shh, don’t tell the leaf blower, but I’ve got my eye on a snow blower next.

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