Raking Leaves

A beautiful fall day:  tomorrow is Halloween, and it is still unseasonably warm, but cool enough to be able to work out in the yard without being pestered by gnats.  I love these annual rituals of putting things to bed at the end of the year, of preparing for winter.  The garden has already been turned and some early fallen leaves have been raked.  Today I disassembled the bird bath and put it in the garden shed before it has a chance to freeze.  I rolled up the hoses (after washing the car one final time).  I mowed the lawn for the last time and then ran the mower until it was out of gas.  And then I spent the rest of the afternoon raking leaves, an activity that I have enjoyed since I was a young boy growing up in a yard filled with maple trees.

I must be the only person in Macon County who does not own a leaf blower.  Instead I have two old faithful rakes, one of them steel and the other bamboo, and these are tools that I thoroughly enjoy using.  There is something hypnotic in the gentle swish of slowly descending down the slope of the front yard, pushing those dry poplar and maple trees into higher and higher piles, raking them onto a tarpaulin, and then carrying them to the compost bins.  It is very satisfying to see the yard clean and neat, devoid (mostly) of leaves.

And the compost bins are filling up, more than half-way already, and deep enough to bury coffee grounds and apple peels so that they can be transformed into compost over the winter, that magical additive that has made the soil in our garden beds better and better each year.

I stop and stretch from time to time and look around.  The leaves have not been colorful this year, but there are brilliant pops of color here and there, especially some maple trees on our running route up in Town.  I gaze upward at the big tulip poplar trees overhead.  Still a few leaves to come down.

And finally, because I had already washed it, I decided to drive the Mini up to Town and back.  For absolutely no reason at all.