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Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Ol’ Robbo’s porch thermometer indicates that we hit the freezing mark overnight, and there’s definitely frost on the grass this morning.

I recall one Halloween years ago when we went trick-or-treating with my semi-cousin’s family and it was this cold, but as a general matter, first frost seems a bit early this year.  I blame Glowbull Enwarmening.

In fact, we had a line of thunderstorms move through here on Halloween this year, followed by strong north winds for All Saints Day.  So you can guess what Ol’ Robbo has on his to-do list for today.  Looking out of window, I’d say the maples are now about 50% shed, and there’s certainly enough leaves down to warrant a clean-up.  At the moment I haven’t completely decided whether to attack the ones on the lawn with blower or mower, but I’m leaning toward the latter:  It produces a beneficial mulch, and there’s something aesthetically pleasing about cutting clean swaths of green through a blanket of dull browns and yellows.  Plus, I need an excuse to use up the rest of my gas.

For some reason, Mrs. R seems particularly solicitous in urging various sources of “help” for me this year.  First she suggested our yard guy, which would be a complete waste of money.  Then she suggested the son of a friend of ours.  I dunno why she’s doing this.  I’m not that decrepit, yet.  But it did give me the opportunity to say, “Stay off my lawn!”

UPDATE:  Mower it was.  The grass sort of needed it anyway.  Another thing I like about mowing leaves is when little bits of them get into the engine and start to smoke.  The smell is quite nice.


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November 2019