Hundreds of words for snow

I don't know it it's true, the ubiquitous urban myth that Eskimos, tied to and living off their land, have 100 different words for snow.

Lately I have been feeling that way about leaves.

I am still raking, and now, on the weekend where I have time off from work and my daughters are at their dad's, I am determined to finish up.

Today and yesterday the leaves are very damp and even wet. Tarps weigh many times their usual weight as I drag them to he riverbank. I have to switch hands, feel myself develop Popeye forearms.

Raking them is different too. My yard is not completely level and in some places leaves have gathered in small depressions; here they are packed and wet. In other places, under the eaves of the house, there are pockets of leaves that are entirely dry, fluffy, still colorful and easy to rake.

Most of the yard now has been cleared at least once, so when I go back over and sweep three or four inches worth of these damp leaves, it feels good.