Leaf me alone Mother @%&*#^

I have been fighting an epic battle with a woman who keeps littering in my yard. As hard as I’ve been trying, it seems impossible to make any headway with her. I reached out for help dealing with the mess. It came (at a hefty price), but it was only a temporary solution. Within hours, she had come back and left even more chaos in her wake. I’ve discussed her at length with my neighbors, and frankly we are all fed up. I think it’s time we evict her.

Mother Nature needs to go. And she needs to take her endless supply of unruly leaves with her.

While I love fall and many of the things that come along with the season (e.g. football, food-filled holidays, and the opportunity to start wearing boots and sweaters), I am also a lifelong New Englander; and as such, I’ve honed the art of complaining about the weather -- no matter what the season. Like a weather-obsessed version of Goldilocks, I am able to find something that makes it either too hot, too cold or not just right. In fall, that something is the massive amount of leaves continuously landing in my yard. 

There is no disputing that the region’s foliage is legendary, attracting “leaf peepers” from near and far who come to gawk at our trees’ vibrant colors; however for many of us residents, the change in color is a sign to prepare for what’s soon to come. The stockpiling of oversized brown bags, ensuring the yard tools and gadgets are all in working order, and obsessively checking the trash schedule for designated leaf pick-up days lead up to a Sisyphus-esque battle against Mother Nature. But, instead of an eternity of pushing a boulder uphill only to have it immediately roll back down, she fiercely and continuously blows a new pile of leaves onto our freshly-raked lawns.

My uphill battle started nearly three weeks ago. I set out early on a Sunday morning with the goal of clearing what had fallen on both my front lawn and backyard. While it was only a tiny fraction of the bags I fill in a typical season, I figured I could try to stay ahead of the game. I managed to collect three full bags before receiving a call from a friend inviting me to brunch. While I may have abandoned my raking for the day, my appetite is always the victor in any battle. Score: Me 1, Mother Nature 0.

In less than a week, my lawn had gone from a spotty green to a carpet of red, orange and yellow. I allowed them pile up and then on Saturday set out to resume my chore. Before doing so I posted a plea to my Facebook friends:

“If anyone wants a yard full of leaves, please come by & get them before I start raking.”

In addition to a number of witty and snarky remarks, a friend referred me to a 2014 blog post from the National Wildlife Federation that was now trending online. It urged people to put down their rakes for the environment’s sake because raking disturbs the natural habitat of various critters and creatures; and also, dead leaves help to fertilize soil as they decompose. My guess is that the year-old post again gained popularity because masses of people attempting to get out of raking were sharing it. Still, I ventured outside with a rake in hand and a stack of leaf bags tucked under my arm.

I got four bags deep before reconsidering the article. Really, who was I to argue with the NWF?

As I packed up my gear, for nature’s sake, I slipped on one of the piles left behind and fell onto the lawn. While unhurt, but still on the ground, I texted for help. My landscaper quickly responded, indicating that he would swing by in the coming days to clean up. I’d call that a win, but considering I was lying in in front of my house and about to rack up a several hundred dollar bill … Score: Mother Nature 1, me 1.

By Wednesday afternoon the landscaping crew had removed almost all evidence of the season from my property. If not for the cool air and the fact that it was nearly dark out, it could almost pass for a scene out of summer. But then I spotted it from the corner of my eye – a giant pile of crunchy brown leaves had amassed in the street right in front of my neighbor’s house. It was almost taunting me. I knew it was only a matter of time before it blew over my way.

As predicted, come morning the street was clear of leaves. Mother Nature again spewed the carnage of her wrath onto my lawn as I slept. And my backyard was littered with leaves from trees I never knew existed on the property. Score: Mother Nature 2, me 1. 

Refusing defeat, I planned to come back at her with a vengeance (and a leaf-mulching vacuum). Saturday was my planned day of attack.

With the help of my motorized accomplice, I tore through the front yard, filling bag after bag with mulched leaves. And I wasn’t alone in the ring with her – several of my neighbors also were out taking care of their leaf-littered property. Together, we were going to take Mother Nature down.

I was almost done with the clean-up session when my newest neighbor came over to introduce himself. He, too, was lining up filled bags on the curb in front of the house he and his wife recently purchased. We engaged in small talk about the neighborhood and the weather (of course). The conversation lasted about 10 minutes. After he walked away I got a strange sense that something wasn’t right. The chatter was extremely pleasant, but I could have sworn he gave me a few strange looks. In a self-induced paranoid state, I grabbed the phone out of my sweatshirt pocket and flipped its camera into “selfie mode” to get a look at myself.

To my horror, a piece of a leaf, a bright orangey-red one, somehow got lodged in the braces on my two front teeth (yes, I’m a 40-year-old with braces – a story I’ll save for another column). My lawn may have been leaf-free, but now my smile was littered.

Mother Nature’s wind conquered me with one last mighty blow – to my ego. Final score: Mother Nature 3, me 1.

While I may have gone down to her this season, raking is simply a training camp to prepare for when Mother Nature and I inevitably meet again. She better beware: I am a true New Englander. I will surely be armed and ready to take her on with bigger tools and even bigger gripes in our next battle: winter shoveling.