It was spring when we started house hunting a few years ago. The world was coming alive with colorful flowers and full trees. Beautiful landscapes were catching our eyes. When we found our house we were thrilled with all of the trees and shade in our yard. Everything looked so fresh and new. If I could go back now and slap myself, I would. I wasn't thinking those beautiful big trees would be shedding their leaves come fall. Or the amount of work that comes with cleaning up those leaves. I hate yard work. I have successfully managed to find a way out of helping Jason with it the past 2 years. This year I was not so lucky. My daughter Allison sure loved it though:
5 full hours of raking, scooping, and bagging is enough to make me want to pack it up and move to the dessert. I sat here yesterday rubbing lotion into the now dead skin on my hands and thinking of soaking again in another hot bath to dull the still lingering pain. Then, I started panicking about the fact that only half the leaves were down last week. How am I going to get out of doing it again this weekend? I know I am a diy girl. I roll my eyes every time the neighbors on either side of us hire a lawn service to come do their yard work (which is pretty much every week) but maybe I should give in and tell Jason that's what I want for my birthday. Lawn Service. As I sat peering out the window, cursing all the leaves that made last weeks work look like nothing and now brooding over another upcoming birthday making me a year older, I got my birthday wish early. A few big gusts of wind blew by taking half my leaves with them over to the neighbors. Is it wrong that I now have a big smile plastered to my face?