I love the change in seasons. For one reason, my laziness changes to different tasks. I can put away the snow shovel, which was barely used, and switch to my rake, which is unlikely to touch a blade of grass until October, when I rake leaves. (As an aside, I have a snow blower that hasn’t started for the past two winters. When we had that big storm last month, one of my sons asked if he could borrow it. I said it isn’t running, but maybe he could get it going. He came over, pulled the rope a couple of times, and then played around with things like the choke. “Dad,” he said, “the gas is turned off.” Must have been the last time his mother used it.)

I raked leaves last fall, put them into nice piles and didn’t pick them up. Now, they are scattered around the yard again. There were times, 25 years or so ago, when I barely had to mow the front lawn. With three growing boys and their games of baseball — with tennis balls — the lawn was flattened. Their goal was not only to run the bases around our lawn and the next-door neighbour’s but to hit roof shots. These were balls that landed on the roofs of houses across the street. Some of the bigger boys could hit them over the roofs. Mercifully, a window was never broken. Home base was an underground sprinkler head. When people get ready to hit, they often tap home plate to prepare themselves. My sprinkler was the victim of these taps, which cumulatively broke it. We had bricks chipped and knocked off the front of our home — still do actually. Our windows let in air where seals are broken.

I once wrote a joke about my lawn, even though it was no laughing manner. The joke was, “My lawn is so bad the British Open could be played on it.” Weirdly, the joke made it into a paper in Scotland apparently. Our lawn never did come back. Because it is so thinned out, we have spots where an incredible number of weed species grow every year. One of these is like ferns. There was a time, even before the carbon tax, when Sandy thought we should turn in our gas lawn mower for one of those old-school push mowers. It didn’t really do the job, more chewing at the grass than cutting it. One day, I was out using this contraption when my next-door neighbour opened her door and called out. “Cam, if your lawn mower is broken, you can use ours.” I thanked her for her kind offer and returned to my chewing. We switched to a battery-operated mower shortly after and have been using it ever since. We should have bought one that cuts a wider swath, so I could walk up and down the lawn fewer times.

 I have daily/weekly duties as well. Vacuuming and dusting are two, and I make my side of the bed almost every day. I admit to taking shortcuts with the dusting. I seldom do between railing legs, I seldom move ornaments, and I seldom do places that are obscured, like behind the television set. I clean up after meals. By that I mean I take the pile of dirty pots and pans on the right side of the sink, wash them and pile them on the left side of the sink. I figure they have to learn to dry on their own. I am clearly a genius when it comes to loading the dishwasher. I have a system and it works well. I have learned to be tolerant when others invade my space.

Our aquarium is part of my domain. After a number of fish died, I took a water sample to a pet store and discovered my ammonia level was out of whack. I mean the aquarium’s ammonia level, not mine. After a couple of cleanings, it was all good. A strange thing has been happening in the tank. A male guppy has been tormenting a female molly. He chases her around the tank like nobody’s business. This guy seems to think they can do it, if you know what I mean. The guppy’s behaviour upset me to the point that I used a net to give him a time out for an hour or so. I thought about making it a day, but his little eyes looked sad.

 In a month or so, I will plant a garden, featuring tomatoes, carrots and cucumbers. I will go to greenhouses with Sandy and purchase plants for our 15 or 20 pots, and a couple of flower beds. My wife places the flowers where she wants them and I do the dirty work. I have a game I play all summer. Which will grow taller, the flowers or the weeds?

-Cam Hutchinson