I knew it.

My preferred title, ‘Autumn Leaves,’ had been stolen by a time-traveling poet and used for a song covered by Frank Sinatra and Nat King Cole. As you’ve probably guessed, it’s about love and regret. Nat’s version captures the pathos.

Relevant, as it turns out, to yesterday’s task, as in most of the year, I love our ten trees, only regretting them in November.

Further, two weeks ago, the local hardware store had a week-long Autumn Special on leaf blowers. Ed and Carol, across the street and to the east, had purchased one last year. They are septuagenarians like Rebecca and me.

Besides, they offered, “When the wind blows from the west, your leaves end up on our lawn and we need help.”

Unfortunately, this year, an easterly gale reversed fortune, with no leaf blower in stock.

So we raked and raked.

The autumn leaves.

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