Lawnmower man

This week I'll roll out my lawnmower for the last cut of the season.
And although this might be a welcome occasion for some, I'll dearly miss cutting the grass.
While lawn mowing technically falls into the chore category, it's one task I've always enjoyed. First, it's outside, and I love the outdoors. Second, the smell is second to none. The aroma of fresh cut grass is more appealing than the scent of clean laundry and the smell of sizzling bacon combined. Throw in a faint waft of gasoline from the engine and I'm in olfactory heaven.
I remember being young and desperately wanting to mow the lawn – a job held by my father. One day, my dad, intrigued by the idea of cutting down his share of the housework, told me I was finally old enough to use the lawnmower. This was a male rite of passage in my household. My older brother mowed, my dad mowed, and now it was my time.
After a brief lesson that involved more instructions on what not to do, I was ready to mow.
I was a natural, my dad said, assigning me to cut the front lawn once a week.
Yes, I was finally the lawnmower man – not to be confused with the bizarre 1992 film, Lawnmower Man, based on the Stephen King story, in which Pierce Brosnan experiments with virtual reality (I bet Brosnan's never done a decent day's mowing in his life).
As a man who can't fix a toilet, assemble a barbecue, tile a floor or do anything remotely handy, it feels good to be able to do a somewhat manly task.
There's something satisfying about cutting grass. A house with a freshly mowed lawn looks so much better than a residence with an overgrown yard.
Every spring I eagerly anticipate the first cut of the season. Now, I'm bidding goodbye to my beloved seasonal pastime for six months.
Another sad part about putting the lawnmower away is that it signifies that snow shoveling is in the not-to-distant future. I don't find any joy in snow removal. Maybe if I had a snow blower I'd like it more. After all, it wouldn't be so different from pushing a lawnmower, but without the shinning sun and sweet smell.
But gazing on a freshly shoveled driveway doesn't provide the same sense of accomplishment as looking at a perfectly cut front lawn.
This weekend when I fire up my lawnmower's engine for the last time, I'll make sure to savour each column and row I cut in the thick, leaf covered grass because it will be the last time I mow my lawn in 2010.