Raking the leaves in our yard is a Sisyphean chore that somewhat resembles a multi-round boxing match in which the other guy keeps punching you during the breaks.
I don’t know anything about boxing, so I’m not sure that metaphor makes any sense. What I mean is that it takes a couple hours on several Saturdays to move all the leaves into piles on the curb where the city will pick them up. We almost have to start this early in the season, because the first pick-up begins next week, but even though the ground is already covered, there’s still a lot of leaves on those trees, and they just keep coming.
This afternoon, we knocked out round one – the first pass through the front yard – in a little over an hour, thanks to a husband who has perfected a “power-rake” move, a four-year-old who is actually helpful this year, and a baby who snoozed in the stroller the whole time. It didn’t hurt that it was an exquisitely beautiful afternoon in a day that also included a trip to the farmer’s market, a Skype call with cousin Eliza, a visit to the craft market at church, and pizza and a movie in the evening.
There are at least three rounds to go in the Leaves vs. Moses match up and the last city pick up isn’t until January, so we’re in this fight for the long haul, but we came out of the gate strong and we’re not going down easily.
Thus endeth the sports metaphors.