Raking It In

The leaves in this neck of the woods are at peak color these days. Our little 1.4 acres is painted in all the usual autumnal hues except red due to the absence of maple trees. Acorns crunch underfoot. Squirrels bury their treasure. It's time to start bickering about the Fall clean-up.

Before we moved here six years ago, we'd spent many years living in a country that defined its seasons in terms of moisture content. It was wet, or it was dry; the vegetation was lush, or parched. Leaves fell off trees in a continuous cycle rather than in a barrage like they do here in the north.

I'd spent all my adult years not raking leaves. After college, I moved to New York City. There were trees placed here and there, but no raking obligations. The big fat sycamore outside our Brooklyn brownstone required minimal upkeep come Fall. All we had to do was sweep the leaves into the gutter where they were sucked up by street cleaning machines.

We were excited about moving to rural New England, where we knew we'd experience a traditional Autumn. But we had no idea how many leaves pile up when you're living in the woods. When the man we hired to plow our very long driveway offered to come and do a fall clean-up, I immediately agreed. When I called to schedule a date, he said the earliest he could do it was the day before Thanksgiving. That seemed fine.

The day before Thanksgiving it snowed 10 inches. Within a couple of hours, our sea of crunchy leaves was hidden beneath a fluffy white quilt. Mr. Fall Clean-up called to say he'd try to come after the snow melted and before the ground froze. I didn't realized how unlikely it was that this would happen any time soon.

Our property remained snowed over for most of the winter. I worried about how the underlying leaf layer was smothering our lawn. I can always find something to worry about.

Sometime in late March-early April, conditions were such that the long overdue clean-up finally got underway. Eight men spent hours raking and blowing and mulching and fertilizing. The smell of gas was intoxicating. We were having the fall clean-up and spring clean-up all at once. When a member of the crew handed me the bill, I was incredulous.

That was the last time we paid to have the leaves raked. For $800, we would do it ourselves.

When Fall arrived, I discovered that no one wanted to rake leaves, and that although I enjoy doing it for a couple of hours under the right conditions, I can't possibly do it all myself. So each year I nag, cajole and guilt the troops into getting out there and attacking the leafage. We argue over when (too soon). We argue over who's put in the most time (me). My boys complain that it's unfair that their sister, who's away at college, doesn't have to do it. It's a recurrent family nightmare, and it goes down the same way, year after year.

Someday (let it be soon) we'll be living in a condo, oohing and ahhing about the Fall color, not lifting a finger to clean up the ensuant mess.