Fall foliage in New England is to die for. And for those of us who have to clean out the mountain of leaves, we get pretty close to death. Raking, blowing, tarping, mulching, and dragging are all parts of the hapless soul's numerous weekend activities.
I know, this sounds like a complaint and to be honest it is, but only slightly. It's the price to pay for the privilege of living in the woods. If only trees cleaned up after themselves, life would be so much rosier. But then again for eons nature has had its own way of cleaning up. Leaves fell, then turned into compost, then rain, snow and wind decomposed them and turn them into soil and the cycle repeated. Then humans appeared and built houses everywhere and complained about the cleanup. Can't blame nature for it; it had a good system going until we showed up.
Some people use hired hands to clean up their yards but, while tempted many times to do the same, I have been doing the ritual for many years myself. Fall cleanup is a good chance to be outside and get a little exercise. This year I enlisted the help of my children to pick up the acorns that seem to be everywhere. At the rate of a penny an acorn, I think I've got a good bargain. Hopefully I'm not breaking any child labor laws. They seemed to be having a ton of fun filling their buckets with them. Soon they'll be asking for payment, and who has the time to verify their services rendered. They might bill me for a 100 or a 1,000 acorns. What the heck, I'm only giving them what's rightfully theirs after I pass on anyways, but I keep that little secret to myself for now.
Soon the fall season will pass, and snow will be on the way. No sooner I clean up the brown stuff than the while stuff would arrive, and I'll find myself outside yet again, shovel in hand.