I don’t know exactly why it is… maybe it comes from years of avoiding parentally-dispensed yard work, but I have a somewhat guilty response to the fact that I love to rake leaves. Granted, this love affair is always short-lived, and since I know this, I always wait for most of the leaves to fall before I commence. Luckily, I live in the Pacific Northwest where the rain will keep the leaves in place until I have a chance to work.

After raking most of the yard, my father-in-law stopped by and informed me that I could borrow his leaf blower. I told him that I wanted to use a rake to help thatch the lawn, and we both smiled at that comment, for we both know that I was just clearing out the old grass to help out my dandelion crop.

But thatching isn’t the entire truth.

I hate those leaf blowing machines. In fact, as I was raking on a quiet afternoon, I could hear the sounds of a distant lawn blower spoiling the serenity. For repetitive yard work like that is somewhat of a meditation with every stroke a mantra. I hate
most lawn equipment, and prefer my mechanical push mower, for the same reasons I like my rake and my other unmotorized tools.

I’m not a luddite, and sometimes use my inherited gas-powered lawn mower when my field of dandelions are especially high and wiry. But it sure felt good stretching my shoulders and flexing my hands … for hour after hour … damn, I sure have a large lawn. Something tells me I’m going to be feeling it in the morning.