Back in the day, when I was a little sprout in the OC, my pappy would get me out of bed at the crack of dawn to make me rake leaves after a Santa Ana windstorm. He would say something like, “Up and at ‘em,” which was an old Army saying.
Well, I didn’t mind that so much, but then the wind would show up and blow the leaves, especially those dang (excuse me for cussin,’ Mom) dainty, pink, bougainvillea leaves all over tarnation and I’d run after them and try to rake them into a nice, neat pile and then, you guessed it, they’re flyin’ all over the place again Dang it! (Oops! I did it again. Apologies to Britney Spears.)
The falling leaves drift by my window, the falling leaves of red and gold (and pink). I see your lips, the sunburned hands I used to hold. (“Autumn Leaves” – 1945 composed by Joseph Kozma and sung by everybody and their brother, including Frank Sinatra, Andy Williams, Johnny Mathis, etc.)
Nowadays, I still rake the leaves the old-fashioned way, with a rake. But not at the crack of dawn – it’s more like the middle of the afternoon. And, let me tell you something, I would never use a leaf blower, like so many folks. First of all, they are noisy. I mean, how many times have you been sound asleep only to be awakened by Wrrrrr, wrrrrr, wrrrrr, Ching! Oops! musta hit a rock. You can’t get away from it, even when you’re staying at some fancy schmancy hotel or motel.
But that’s not all, where do you suppose they blow said leaves? That’s right: They either blow those suckers into the street or into your yard. I wish there was such a thing as a “leaf-sucker” that sucks those suckers up into a bag and you could use them as mulch for your garden. Hmmm, perhaps I could have them compressed and use them to power the Mottmobile.
Getting back to the leaf-raking dilemma, the same thing happens to me, here at the stately Motley Manor. The wind comes up and blows those suckers right back at me. It’s kinda’ like I’m runnin’ against the wind. Come to think of it, I’ve been runnin’ against the wind my entire life.
Against the wind, we were runnin’ against the wind. We were young and strong, we were runnin’ against the wind. (Against The Wind” Bob Seger – 1980)
Good night, folks, I’ll see you again next week, same time, same station. Sleep tight and, whatever you do, don’t let the bedbugs bite.
Keep it flyin’,
Uncle Mott
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