A repost if I may.
Leave me alone Ah ‘tis fall, and an old man’s fancy turns to thoughts of raking leaves. As I look for the rake, further threats of moving into a condo are forming along the edges of my disenchantment. Raking leaves is what really drove Scrooge over the edge. Wet soppy flattened leaves that by now have been impaled by the spiny grass. The rake is hanging just where I knew it would be, under the garden cultivator, shovel, shears, and snow shovel. I know it never works to take all those implements... Sign in to see full entry.