Oh my aching muscles!

If I had a trainer, they would tell me that I should warm up before raking and bagging leaves. That it would be a good idea to stretch my arm muscles, my back muscles and leg muscles and that a careful warm up should take place before tackling the leaves in my yard.

Alas, none of that happened on Sunday. As Sunday morning ended with its focus on pets, I looked at the weather channel and glanced out doors to see if it was raining. On arriving back home late Saturday afternoon, I paid close attention to the mat of leaves covering the driveway and back yard.

The Manitoba Maples, the birch, the apple, and the ash trees had all shed their leaves leaving only the black framework of branches visible. The ground was either café au-lait brown or golden yellow. The grass was up having not been cut in a couple of weeks.

So with the clear bell given and not expecting any rain, I went into the garage, dug out some work gloves and pulled the leaf rakes off the hooks. Without hesitation the garage door rose and I began raking right at the lip of the garage.

Within minutes two huge piles of leaves were gathered in the driveway. I set some goals. I would have the boulevards and side yards cleaned and bagged by noon. The temperature was just right. The leaves that had shaded the home throughout the summer and early fall months, now fallen, would be gathered up easily.

I thought I had enough bags to do the job, but discovered that those two early piles depleted my supply by half. It demanded a quick trip to the local hardware store. It was a good break after two hours of work, but I could tell that my optimism of completing the raking and clean up would last far longer than I had originally calculated.
But by late afternoon, my muscles and bones began to ache and instead of cooling down, I just plunked myself into a chair. Today I have muscles telling me that I had abused myself again.

Raking leaves and being outdoors can be a good change of pace. On Sunday, lots of vehicles honked as they drove by. I hope that it was encouragement. Bent over, stuffing leaves into the oversize bags, I only caught the colour of the truck or car going by.
But by late afternoon, my muscles and bones began to ache and instead of cooling down, I just plunked myself into a chair. Today I have muscles telling me that I had abused myself again.

Some years, when I have raked, I have seen streams of successful hunters go by with their moose or deer packed in the back of half tons. The trucks with their four wheels passed by, but few animals were visible.

When I delivered papers, one of the common smells in the fall was that of leaves burning in the gutter of the street. Hubert Preston, who lived on Armit Avenue, on late warm October days, could be depended upon to have a small smoldering fire slowly burning up the leaves from his yard. Everyone stopped and talked to him and he had time for everyone. The fire seemed to smolder from the first pile of leaves through to early evening.

When we first moved to Victoria Avenue, I would bag the leaves and someone would come along and quietly remove the leaves and dig them into their garden. I never knew who it was, but they solved my problem of taking the leaves to the landfill.
You don’t have those smoldering leaf fire smells in Fort Frances anymore. Instead, once the leaves are gathered, they are hauled off to the landfill site. Maybe next year, someone will come along and gather up all those leaves, grass clippings, branches and trees and deliver them to the hawg full generation plant.
–Jim Cumming,
Publisher