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With this I leave you
Friday, December 30, 2016 at 06:44AM 
No; I'm not discontinuing my blog.
You should be so fortunate. Relax. I've lots more to say.
I just mean, this is it for Twenty Sixteen.
Also it's about leaves.
As in, a week or so ago, on a chilly rainy morning in which I had very little to do and all day in which to accomplish it, I was sitting in my quiet house.
I was reading. And enjoying the quiet, and the softly twinkling tree, and it being Christmas.
Let's pull over and park here for a mo.
Among my favorite things (year round) is this simple concept: Silence.
When I'm alone, that is. When folks are around, I more or less enjoy the noise they generate.
Not always, but most of the time.
But when I'm home alone, unless I'm listening to music or watching something, I love the quiet.
So it was that I became vexed when, without warning, the morning rainy quiet was pierced by the loud, insistent whine of some sort of lawn equipment. Outside.
Like, a leaf blower. That's what came to mind, once you got over the feeling that a giant insect had happened into the area.
I couldn't see anything; I was downstairs, in the back of the house. I could only hear it.
But our neighborhood is large, with large-ish yards, and there are trillions of leaves.
So the sound of leaf-blowing is anything but unusual, except, it was raining.
Normally one does not do yard work of any kind in the rain.
And so I was annoyed.
But I managed to settle down and after an hour or so, I barely noticed the loud whine of the leaf-blowing (or whatever it was) apparatus disturbing the peace out of doors.
I didn't even go to the window or door, to look, to figure out which neighbor to be mad at.
Until at one point around noon, I did go to the door. I opened it.
And guess where the leaf blowing was taking place? You guessed it: In my yard.
Now, we have an extra-large front yard and it is dominated by a massive White Oak. There are lots of leaves. Lots and lots and lots of leaves.
TG and Andrew and Joel had worked on leaf removal (phase one) at Thanksgiving. When they were finished, the lawn was fairly pristine and leafless. Leaves had been blown from the roof and out of the gutters.
And sixty percent of the leaves were still on the tree.
So then later, a few weeks ago, TG did phase two. By himself.
When he was finished, the roof, the porch, our many steps, the driveway, the front walk, and roughly one-sixteenth of the yard was visible. The rest was still nothing but leaves.
Many of the leaves had been blown and pushed into a long wide pile just beyond the front walk. Past the long wide pile was a single layer of leaves still covering ninety percent of the remainder of the lawn.
Then TG had to leave it because he was too tired to do the rest.
And now my eyes beheld total strangers struggling to load a tarp full of wet leaves from my yard, into a work truck near the road.
Another truck -- a pickup -- sat in my driveway. A person unknown to me was blowing leaves in the side yard.
I quickly closed the door. They were at the wrong house! A leaf-removal crew was removing leaves from the wrong yard! And they'd expect me to pay them when they were finished!
A deciduous sort of panic ensued since I knew I hadn't been the one to arrange for leaf removal, and no way had TG -- a do-it-himselfer from way back -- done that. It's a rare-if-ever occurrence for him to part with cash in exchange for yard work.
So I called TG and said Babe! There are people working in our yard, taking our leaves!
And TG said, I know. That's Arthur. I asked him to do it but he said they were coming tomorrow, after the rain. Anyway you need to pay him a hundred fifty bucks when they're done.
?????
I wanted to say, Who are you and what have you done with my husband? But I didn't. I said, Okay bye, and trotted off to get the checkbook.
Some time later, Arthur -- a kind, courteous, youngish black man -- rang the doorbell. He laughed when I told him I had a scare upon realizing people were in our yard, removing what I thought were the wrong leaves.
So I called my husband, and he said you were scheduled to come tomorrow, when the rain was over, I said.
Arthur shrugged as though he and his crew preferred soggy leaves to dry ones. Actually, it's easier to get them into the tarps when they're wet, he said. They don't blow all around.
Makes sense to me. Arthur and I wished one another a Merry Christmas, and he drove away with our leaves. And our money.
Later TG admitted he just couldn't face round three with the leaves. I said I didn't blame him. At least now, the White Oak's branches are bare.
Except, today was an exceptionally windy day and our yard is once again covered with leaves. Many neighbors contributed said leaves from their very own yards.
Something tells me these leaves will lie there all winter and be ground to powder with the Cub Cadet the first time TG mows the lawn in the spring.
You'll find me inside the whole time. Enjoying the silence. I hope it rains.
And that is all for now.
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Happy Friday :: Happy New Year
