The street I grew up on was lined with elm trees. They kept us cool in the summer without the need of air conditioning. That was a good thing considering the fact that my mom has never really fully approved of such artificial cooling. First of all, she thinks it is a little unhealthy and I tend to agree. I understand that folks with allergies sometimes can't have the windows open but, overall, I think all the places we are being "chilled" makes us more likely to catch a cold or get the sniffles. My mom liked to be able to hear the birds singing and breeze blowing. She also had that white-tailed squirrel to keep track of...as I've mentioned in previous stories. She felt that you should live your life as if your windows are always open...it may make you behave a little better. I think that is true...with A/C and allergies in our house, our windows are closed a lot which leads us to behave more like the Osbournes than the Osmonds sometimes.

But, back to those trees, they did provide shady comfort in the hot times of the year. In the winter, standing there, uh, naked as a jay-bird they could look a little forlorn. (For some reason, saying "naked as a jay-bird" seems less offensive than the word "naked" all by itself. I've never known why we would use a jay-bird as an example of being, well, naked. Most birds I see are fully clothed in feathers, except when first hatched, so maybe we're talking about a baby jay-bird. You could also say "naked as the day you were born" but, in my case, being very self-conscious, modest Lutheran from Wisconsin, I was actually born wearing a snowmobile suit. My mom didn't appreciate the helmet.) So, the trees look melancholy against the cold, gray steel of a winter sky. Wow! That last sentence was almost real writing.

Summing up these childhood elms: Summer=cooling. Winter=naked. Inbetween=work. Yes, they were lovely to look at as the leaves changed color but once they started to fall for fall, it meant work. I am pretty sure they all came down at once on a pre-planned schedule. They usually waited until they knew I had something I wanted to do and then made their dive. (Remember, our windows were all opened so the leaves could listen in and know how to ruin a boy's fall Saturday.) It wasn't all bad. The transistor radio would sit on the front porch tuned into the University of Wisconsin Badgers football game and the raking would begin. The other fall ritual...changing from screens to storm windows...I was not usually in on, other than to provide the appropriately enthusiastic laugh when my dad would drag the heavy things out of the garage and say "These are a real PANE!" It never got old.

Actually, I can't complain too much about raking leaves since my dad went out and got one of those "lawn sweepers" after my brothers were all out of the house. While those guys were in charge of raking, my main job had been to jump into any pile they left...kicking as many back into the yard as possible. No wonder my brothers never send me birthday presents. Regardless, with the sweeper, we just had to mow the lawn...using the power mower dad also purchased after the big boys left...and then sweep up the leaves and clippings. This sweeper was very wide and hard to steer but it was also powerfully efficient. Once I actually swept up a football, two small cats and our next door neighbor. She was a small, white-haired woman who actually seemed to enjoy being swept off her feet.

The biggest raking job I ever attempted was when I was in college. One autumnal week, my mom and her husband, Gordy, were on a trip. They have a wonderful house and nice big lot on the lake. Back then, they also had many, many trees. Even Joyce Kilmer would've thought it was overkill. Anyway, all those trees inevitably meant an abundance of leaves. Well, I decided I would surprise them when they got home by raking the yard. I raked all day Saturday...prayed for no wind that night...then finished up on Sunday. By the time I was done, you could've jumped into the pile from a Cessna and been okay on landing. Frankly, that was the real reason I had done this "dutiful son" deal. I wanted to jump into the pile. When you're in your early 20s those chances start to dwindle away. Also, since nobody would see me do it, I could maintain my image as a suave, intelligent collegian. (Looking back, I was the only one who thought of myself that way.) As a kid, I could jump into those leaves for days and never get bored, but, being a mature, sensible man at that point, I could only keep it up for about five hours. Then, it was really time to burn them. Showing a rare case of good sense, I waited for Gordy to do the honors. I was pretty sure their gratefulness for my hard work would've been muted had I set their house on fire.

That brings me to yesterday. I was walking the dog and went by the neighbor-with-the- perfect-yard's house. I've mentioned him before. The grass is always wonderfully green and manicured. The edging around the sidewalks is amazingly straight. He has two small trees in his lawn which have recently shed their leaves. Naturally, being trees in his yard, the leaves fell off in numerical order and landed in six neat stacks...like yellow Pringles. Passing by and approaching our yard, I noticed that we really should rake the leaves. We have a few birch trees in the front that are, frankly, rather snotty about their leaves. It takes them forever to make their grand entrance in the spring. Sometimes their stand-offishness really irritates me. So much so, that more than once my wife has found me on the front yard yelling, sarcastically, "OOOh, Mr. Big Shot Birch tree...we're all SOOO impressed with your leaves....OOOHHH...they're so much better than any other tree...." After about a day and half, they start to turn yellow. They hang on in that yellow state for a long time before they fall to earth. I've never really raked them up. After waiting so long for them to appear, I hate to get rid of them. Also, we can't burn them and that's part of the fun of raking. I know there are probably environmental and safety reasons for such a burn ban, but I miss the primal feeling of satisfaction when you set it ablaze, as though you, Alley Oop, have discovered fire. I also miss the smell. I think Glade should come out with that aroma in a can. Or, a cologne called Eau d'LeafSmoke.

It is probably better for the lawn to rake up the leaves and all the stuff matted down in the soil but leaving them there also covers the thin spots in the yard. Sort of a seasonal natural comb-over. Wait a minute: I just thought of the perfect reason to rake the leaves. Not because of pressure from Mr. GreenJeans down the street or for the health of the grass. No...the perfect reason is to give my teenage sons an outside chore to do. Then, after they've gotten all the leaves in a nice big pile, I'll jump in it. That would be fun even if it means no more birthday presents from them, either.