Blowin' in the Wind

The other day I made a bit of extra cash editing a story for a law journal. I took the money and and bought myself . . . a leaf-blower. An electric one, so it's not quite as loud as the gas ones. Nonetheless, I had always been dead set against them, deeming them noisy and environmentally unfriendly things that simply blew the problem onto someone else's lawn or, worse yet, into the street where they would wash into our lakes and feed the algae. And anyway I liked raking leaves, the smells, the crisp feel of the fall air, the birds, and so on. But as I watched the neighbor use his, and quickly blow the leaves into a pile and onto a tarp, which he then dragged to the curb for city pickup, I noticed how quickly he was finished, and how efficient it seemed. And, I must admit, my back sometimes hurts after a couple hours of raking, time that I could spend doing other things like, well, writing. Or, truth be told, watching one of the local football teams on TV.

I was just outside with my new purchase a couple hours ago, and truth is I love it. I wait anxiously as the leaves slowly drift down, waiting for them to form a bright yellow and red carpet I can clear away. I used to look up at the trees as I raked, noticing with anxiety just how many leaves were yet to fall. Now I look up at the trees and wish they would let go so I can get to work.

I'm the same way with my snowblower. I used to love being up in the pre-dawn darkness, working my way through the new-fallen snow, feeling snug in my winter coveralls and gloves, my breath clouding about me. Restful, peaceful, beautiful. I even resented it when my well-intentioned neighbor would fire up his machine and "help" me out.

But again, shoveling took a lot of time and, though I try to exercise regularly, the motion of tossing heavy heaps of snow to one side gets old and one's back gets sore. Now I do in 20 minutes what used to take me at least an hour, sometimes much more -- and since I get up early I'm usually finished before my neighbor has had his morning coffee, and sometimes I'll do his sidewalk just to get even.

I wonder what really changed, did I get smarter or lazier -- or just older? And whether it really matters.