The great autumn putaway
Around my house, autumn stands for “take down and put away”. The pool and its paraphenalia. The family yurt (not really, but I’m lost to identify what else in history looks like a tent but lives beside my house). The various shovels and rakes and dutch hoes and other tools that stand for a green lawn among all the others.
The pool is done. Almost. I’ll have to pick up the filter pump and a few lengths of hose, but tomorrow comes quickly. The water has been reduced to lily pond level, and the antifreeze lies waiting. Getting it done before frostbite occurs; that’s progressive.
Ditto for the gazebo (yurt). I didn’t need assistance, not even the moral variety. I did take note that other creatures were planning extended stays. A cocoon. A wasp that was particularly sticky. Some slugs. Found them, not sure how many, because I was enjoying a final barefoot afternoon. Slugs have a texture that soles abhor.
And now I’m ready for the long haul to the next holiday break. Best estimate: eleven weeks. Unfair to those who believe in a balanced mix of work and play. I may post a countdown calendar in my cubicle as inspiration.
I witnessed Anthony Calvillo set a new record for something or other (OK, most passes in a career). I’m happy for the guy. When every weekend brings another opportunity to stand and deliver, over and over again, he has delivered. With a bit more effort from his cohort, there could be another Grey Cup parade in Montreal. Take that, western wannabees.
