When we moved into our Texas home over 13 years ago, our little plot was full of a few sinners. In the backyard, we had an elm tree that stretched out over the back fence and over the fence in the neighbor’s yard. In the spring and fall, the tree was responsible for the leaves and seeds it scattered liberally across as many pools as it could. The neighbor on the other side must deal with our shedding pine trees. Not only do our trees dump needles on their roof, but the pine tree’s root systems are evident in their properties.

This brings us to what tradeoff occurs in the currency known as “neighborly love.” With our Texas winds coming largely out of the south, the most likely place for potential sinners to live was to our south. In our case, our neighbors have an oak tree that drops its leaves in December or whenever it feels like it. Based on our neighbor’s response, it doesn’t matter when the leaves drop. The only thing that matters is when the last leave drops. This tree and our similar oak tree have provided bags full of leaves and acorns. While lawn maintenance is an accepted part of suburban life, I feel I have been carrying more than my share in the past few years.

When the winds shifted and were coming north yesterday, I could not resist doing a little raking. Yes, it was Christmas. The gifts were done. My wife was finishing up our late lunch, and the kids were looking over their gifts. (The days of multiple new video games have passed. Trying on their new clothes or admiring their new domesticated item was the peak of excitement. ) Having two hours to invest in my yard, I changed my raking strategy to encourage the wind to be my helper. I had minimum success when raking the grass. The greatest success was on the sidewalk. The matted leaves along the edges of the sidewalk were happy to dance back toward my neighbor’s house once I liberated them from their brief residency along my walkway. I was not vindictive. I was just willing to see how far the liberated leaves were willing to travel. Not all traveled as far as I wanted. Some did.

With my early acknowledgment of my failure as a neighbor, I hope my credibility is improved. We all have pet peeves. (I probably have more than most with interviews for new pets conducted regularly.) With a rake as my weapon, I am grateful my imagination and my wife’s ears are the only place this pet peeve lives.