I did not rake during the week I took off for Thanksgiving. That's because it kept raining, every other day. Had it rained the first three days and then not rained the next three, I could have raked toward the end there. But it kept soaking the leaves, and soddening the sod.
Today, snow was forecast. So unless I wanted the lawn to steep in tea until spring, I had to get as much of the lawn raked as I could
(This may be a false prompt. I'm from Vermont, where, once it starts snowing, the snow doesn't melt until April. Sometimes May.)
So, after sleeping in too late considering what I wanted to get accomplished, I raked the west side of the yard (where the leaves are densest on the ground). I took care not to rip up the vegetation, but the main vegetation is broad-leafed plantain, which is all dead and gone anyway. This left a lot of exposed soil, subject to erosion. This is not good. We may have to spread some
(shudder) grass seed.
About half an hour into that, it started to rain. And then stop. So I kept going.
The southeast corner is much easier to rake into the forest, because it's a tight curve around the house there. But the next step was getting leaves from out around the chicken coop, and they were somewhat matted up in there. And wet. The sporadic rain now has pieces in it. Huzzah, wintry mix.
I'm now getting to the parts of the lawn with scattered patches of lovely moss. It's beautiful, but fragile, so I am being more meticulous about how I rake. With the southeast corner cleared to the back deck, I now start figuring out where the leaves on the south side are going to go. I decide, reluctantly, that dragging the leaves across the back lawn to the southeast corner is the best bet. I sweep the rest of the leaves off the back deck onto the back lawn, and then rake leaves out of the sinkhole and into the woods.
Just then, the extraordinarily loud sound of the neighbor's leaf blower stops. I look up to see a man about my age sauntering toward me. He's dressed a bit more for the weather than I am, in a flannel shirt and faded baseball cap (I'm in a t-shirt, and sweating, despite the 35F weather). He introduces himself as "Doug", that he's my new (as of August or so) neighbor, and that we hadn't met yet. I acknowledge, give my name, shake his hand, and make a little weather-related small-talk. He goes back to what he was doing, and I go back to what I was doing.
I know that there exists a segment of our society which believes that we should all know our neighbors, socialize with them, and generally sign Kumbaya around campfires with them. I am not one of those people. I could have done very well without ever knowing Doug. If I ever meet him in a context where I care, that could well change.
I am now approaching the south-east corner of the yard, which means raking around the kids' swing-set. The kids are mostly too old for the swing-set now. But my younger still plays on it from time to time. Whatever. This corner is also under the two oaks which are actually in my lawn, rather than in the woods, so there is high leaf density here as well. It's heavy. I look at my watch. It's been an hour and a half. The rain gets heavier, then backs off again.
The moss on this side is very thick; it's like a carpet. It's gorgeous. And fragile, especially when wet. My shoulders are letting me know how much they don't enjoy heavy, meticulous work. But as I don't want the moss smothered until spring, I get this corner done as well.
Okay, the east side only looks covered towards it south end, thanks to the two oaks. It actually just looks wind-swept along the north. I pull the leaves away from the east side of the deck, and clear out the southern half of the east side.
tamidon comes out with some leftovers which are now chicken-food. She proclaims the job I've done to be splendid, and that the rest can either be done or not. More wintry mixy stuff starts falling. I decide that I'm done for the day, after "only" two hours, and I come inside and have a beer.
Maybe a nap now.