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blatherskiteSince it's not at all obvious, the title of this post is an allusion to the song Alice's Restaurant Massacree—a familiar and well-loved folk song, though most people forget the last word in the title.
The massacree in question round here is the annual slaughter of the leaves of the trees in my yard—a bit of a stretch, though there's a relevant bit in the song about dumping garbage that always cracks me up. If you're not familiar with the massacree in the song title, it's worth the nearly 20 minutes it takes Arlo Guthrie to work his way through the song and explain... you'll figure out soon enough whether you love it or hate it, and if you love it, those 20 minutes just fly right by. I'll wait right here 'til you get back.
So, leaves and editing: Of the raking of leaves (and the making of books*), there is no end, particularly when you've got a locust tree in the backyard. Lovely tree, but it insists on clinging to its tiny little leaves (which require at least twice as much effort to gather as the leaves of the nearby maple and apple and pear trees) until late in the season. All the others have the decency to drop trou by the end of October, but the locust, she clings tenaciously to her thousand veils, tantalising me with the hope that she'll finally throw away the last ones.
* Ecclesiastes, as it happens.
The raking of leaves is one of the few yard-care activities I actually enjoy—particularly once the air turns crisp enough to keep Shoshanna indoors. (Not that I want to keep Shoshanna indoors or out of my hair. It's just that when the air temperature declines to Shoshanna-hostile levels, it's finally dropping low enough that I enjoy serious outdoor exercise.)
Leaf-raking is a bit like editing, which I also enjoy most days. The first time you go through a manuscript, it's like raking the first major leaf-fall of the year: tons of stuff to clean up, but it's mostly easy work. Each successive raking faces fewer leaves, but it's still something that needs to be done. Over the course of a week, I usually fill 4+ garbage cans (each tightly compressed by me jumping repeatedly on the leaves with my 200+ pounds of weight), gradually dwindling down to only 1 or 2 cans. Yet each time I think I'm done, that blasted locust showers another can or two worth of leaves. Much like editing... you never get it all, no matter how hard you rake.
Some days you just shake your fist at the editorial locusts (so to speak) and shout "enough already!" But the lawn, and the manuscript, are that much cleaner when you're done, and that's always satisfying.
The massacree in question round here is the annual slaughter of the leaves of the trees in my yard—a bit of a stretch, though there's a relevant bit in the song about dumping garbage that always cracks me up. If you're not familiar with the massacree in the song title, it's worth the nearly 20 minutes it takes Arlo Guthrie to work his way through the song and explain... you'll figure out soon enough whether you love it or hate it, and if you love it, those 20 minutes just fly right by. I'll wait right here 'til you get back.
So, leaves and editing: Of the raking of leaves (and the making of books*), there is no end, particularly when you've got a locust tree in the backyard. Lovely tree, but it insists on clinging to its tiny little leaves (which require at least twice as much effort to gather as the leaves of the nearby maple and apple and pear trees) until late in the season. All the others have the decency to drop trou by the end of October, but the locust, she clings tenaciously to her thousand veils, tantalising me with the hope that she'll finally throw away the last ones.
* Ecclesiastes, as it happens.
The raking of leaves is one of the few yard-care activities I actually enjoy—particularly once the air turns crisp enough to keep Shoshanna indoors. (Not that I want to keep Shoshanna indoors or out of my hair. It's just that when the air temperature declines to Shoshanna-hostile levels, it's finally dropping low enough that I enjoy serious outdoor exercise.)
Leaf-raking is a bit like editing, which I also enjoy most days. The first time you go through a manuscript, it's like raking the first major leaf-fall of the year: tons of stuff to clean up, but it's mostly easy work. Each successive raking faces fewer leaves, but it's still something that needs to be done. Over the course of a week, I usually fill 4+ garbage cans (each tightly compressed by me jumping repeatedly on the leaves with my 200+ pounds of weight), gradually dwindling down to only 1 or 2 cans. Yet each time I think I'm done, that blasted locust showers another can or two worth of leaves. Much like editing... you never get it all, no matter how hard you rake.
Some days you just shake your fist at the editorial locusts (so to speak) and shout "enough already!" But the lawn, and the manuscript, are that much cleaner when you're done, and that's always satisfying.