Dear Editor:
How can I put this gently?
For eons now, rake-owning man (homo quietus) has been pointing out to leaf-blowing man (homo irritatus) that the leaf blower is unnecessary, nay, counterproductive to the bucolic marshalling of dead leaves into the waste bin.
Meanwhile, leaf-blowing man has supplied no counter-argument. He doesn’t argue that the blower is more efficient, or that it’s a symbol of progress, or that it looks cool on his shoulder. No. He just ignores rake-owning man, puts on his ear protectors, fires up his machine and blows leaves and dust and salamanders, and anything that stands in his way . . . where? Well, out on the road seems like a good choice.
Sorry. That wasn’t gentle. Let me try again.
When I was a young gardener, my boss came up to me while I was raking and said, “Here, try this. It’ll be quicker.” He handed me perhaps the world’s first leaf blower. I think it was coal-powered. I tried it for a while and handed it back. I could rake faster.
At 62, I still can. Now, I don’t claim to be able to get every single little tiny bit of detritus off my driveway with a rake. But I’m not harbouring a psychiatric condition that drives me to render my lawn, my drive, my very soul, spotless. No, this condition, this syndrome, belongs to leaf-blowing man. I, rake-owning man, come slightly cluttered. I see no harm in it.
But if I have to spend one more weekend listening to the on, off, on, off of a blower as some bionic neat-freak tries to herd a holly leaf “away” somewhere, I’m going to. . . .
OK, not gentle.
But you get my point, leaf-blowing man. Put it down. Now. Don’t drive to the gym for a session on the bicep compressor. Instead, buy a rake (toothy thing on the end of a stick). Maybe get a broom (brushy thing on a stick). And muscle your lawn, your drive, your life into shape. Quietly.
Bruce Mohun
North Vancouver
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