People from more temperate climes might think that going from one season to another is a breeze. Ha! Utah was founded by hardy pioneers who knew they’d never survive the harsh winter months unless they were properly prepared.

Which, in my case, means mowing the lawn for the last time. This year, I’ve mowed for the last time six times.

Really.

While it’s true that Utah has definite seasonal weather, this weather isn’t particularly good about sticking to a timetable. Some years we get snow in August and some years it’s January. It all depends on the El Nino, which political party is in power, and whether or not the stores have snow shovels in stock. There’s an old pioneer saying, “No shovels in stores means snow soon will be yours.”

Edging the lawn along the driveway is very difficult once it’s under a foot of snow, so I try to give the lawn a good pre-blizzard trim. This year I trimmed it for the last time in mid-September when the forecasters teased me with the promise of a storm. A week later — after the storm veered off randomly toward Canada like a deer frightened by an oncoming semi — I mowed for the last time … again. And the week after that. And the week after that.

Finally I gave up and let the lawn grow. After all, under all of the snow, who’s going to know whether or not it’s creeping up the flag stones around the garden? Besides, I had other pre-Winter duties.

Like draining the sprinkling system. (Aside: Perhaps if I had turned off the sprinkling system sooner I wouldn’t have had to mow as often.)

When meteorologists call Utah arid it’s a polite way of saying that I live in a desert; much the same as when a blind date is described as looking plain, or a house is a handyman’s dream, or a political candidate is anxious to hear the concerns of the voters. The only way to have a lush green lawn is to pump gallons of water onto it from April (lawn mower repair season) through October (Indian Summer.) An automatic, in-ground sprinkling system is an absolute must for all homeowners who don’t wish to spend seven months of the year moving hoses from around the yard like the world’s busiest fireman.

In the Winter the ground freezes and homeowners who fail to drain their sprinkling systems in the Fall get to dig them up and repair them in the Spring. My particular sprinkler system was installed by the previous homeowner who appears to have learned about plumbing from books on non-Euclidean geometry. None of the pipes join at right angles and there’s no clear relationship between the valves and the various sprinkler heads. Still, keeping it running is easier than replacing it so I dutifully drain it every Fall in a ritual which involves turning a series of valves ‘just so’ and praying the everything will work again in the Spring.

Another of the fun Fall chores is cutting back the rose bushes by the bay window. When we moved into the house sixteen years ago we planted roses as a low-tech security measure. A determined thief could get through them and enter the windows, but he’d leave plenty of DNA evidence on the floors, walls and ceiling from the inevitable thorn-induced arterial bleeding. Tracking him down would be easy; he’d be the pale guy who appeared to have lost a fight with an alley cat.

A good theory, but in practice we’ve never had a thief and the roses are desperate to prove they are capable of doing the job right. When I trim them, they fight back. Cutting them is an exercise in mortal combat which leaves me shaken, pale, and looking like I lost a fight with an alley cat.

Which doesn’t leave me in very good shape for the final pre-winter job of preparing the wood-burning stove. This is a necessity because the electricity at my house is very afraid of snow storms. Sometimes, during blizzards, the electricity hides in the wires and refuses to come out. In a sympathy strike, the gas furnace refuses to turn on until the electricity comes back. During the middle of the cold season this can be a problem if we want the water in our pipes and toilet to stay liquid.

Prepping the stove involves cleaning the chimney. I could hire a professional chimney sweep, but they charge money and it’s really not much different from cleaning out a drinking glass … except you have to use a special brush and most of the work takes place on the roof. So I’m very, very careful when I’m up there. I don’t ever want to experience extended hospital stay season.