The driveway is full of them. Leaves. They gather against the walls that frame the length of the driveway and road outside the house. Each car that passes flurries them up to find a new resting place or flattens them into the tarmac where they stick unbudging, resistant to all but the heaviest-duty bristle brush.
The leaves that have made our property their home don't come from our trees which are mainly evergreen. They hail from a deciduous domain, from elsewhere but seasons and wind have no knowledge of borders and so there is the annual autumnal task of collection and disposal. If the leaves were from a book it would be a multi-parter as the task of collection is repeated often until the last leaves leave their branches.
A leaf-blower to get my own back was a useful purchase. It enables me to blow them quickly into heaped mounds for later lifting. An old neighbour with country ways once advised me not to waste my time trying to brush them into such piles. Leave it to the wind, he advised, and when it calms down the leaves will have formed themselves into settled piles.
He was right. Working with nature.
The piles are light to the touch and often the brittle leaves break and turn to dust. Their lightness is also a challenge though. Four big scoops with large plastic garden hands fill the barrow. A fifth would lose the precarious balance and leaves would fall off the barrow leaving a new deposit to brush.
No, better to take it gently and often. The piles cannot be left too long as stronger winds will disperse them again and supplement them with fresh fall. So the task is repeated, weekly and they are transposed to that out of the way spot in the garden where leaves can be left to crumble and compost.
The driveway relieved at last.
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