I love living in the North East. We have seasons, very few earthquakes and tornadoes, and I don’t need to go anywhere to admire the changing leaves. In fact, on my twenty-minute drive to work, I get to admire the leaves changing every day until the trees are bare and snow is on the ground. I believe that I am very lucky to experience this so easily. Except, of course, when I must rake the fallen leaves or be buried alive underneath.

And that’s exactly what we did for most of Saturday. Rake. And rake and rake and rake and rake. The neighborhood has a truck that comes along once a week and vacuums up the leaves so all we need to do is move the leaves to the edge of the road. The pile was easily two feet tall and sadly, we’re not technically done. But we have a lawn again.

Unless, of course, the wind has since blown the leaves back on to the lawn. That would not be fun.