Leaf Me Alone

My back aches – lower, upper, middle, the whole deal.  My sides are screaming.  My upper arms are in agony, and I have blisters on my blisters.  Yes ladies and gents, it is that time of year when you have sticks in your hair, leaf litter in your bra, and a rake in your loudly protesting fore-digits.  1/3 of an acre never looks so huge as it does at raking time.

The Professor and I are of the “Wait til they’re all down and do it all at once” school of leaf raking.  It’s always about now that I question the wisdom of this theory, as I glare at the neighbors who scrape their rakes around a couple of times and go in (they are of the “do it every weekend” school), while the Professor and I labor and puff for hours.  I had the brilliant idea today of driving the truck into the backyard and piling leaves up in it, then driving it back to the street for dumping.  I don’t know how much faster or energy efficient it is, but it is kind of fun to drive your truck around your backyard I must say.  Feels a bit like breaking rules.

Although I complain, I wouldn’t trade our mature trees, or our 1/3 acre, but I have learned to dread the January weekend when my husband crooks his eyebrow suggestively at me and says “Darlin’, what were you planning on doing today?”  No I wouldn’t trade them – I would, however, consider hiring a yard service next year.