Mulling things on my morning ramble
with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
For a change, I am not wandering off on one of my soap-box sermons about the inherent evil of gasoline-powered lawnmowers.
Though, Lord knows, as a sanctimonious user of a push reel mower, I could.
No, this is about the immorality of mowing and leaf raking.
When we moved to our house about 12 or so years ago, the first October our neighbor cut his lawn really short. Now, he was a country kid and should have known better than to cut grass that short.
So I asked why he did it.
And he said, ``So all my leaves blow in your yard.''
I remembered that as the meathead and I rambled around the post-wind storm carnage on the streets and alleys around dawn this morning.
Hurled bouquets of fall mums here. Branches and small tree limbs strewn there. A dumpster ridden hard off its concrete landing.
But it was not nearly as cold as I had expected.
Reading for days of the impending wind storm due Thursday evening, I made sure to get out and cut my lawn Thursday morning. Well, that and it was the first day in nearly week where it wasn't raining.
The first leaves were falling from the maple in back.
I wondered if the winds would scoot them off to the neighbor's.
Was it wrong?