We filled 25 lawn bags, hauled huge piles on tarps to the back woods at least a dozen times, and finally managed to take care of the windfall.
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Actually, I'd love to burn the leaves. I have many childhood memories of my grandfather burning leaves in whichever part of the yard he planned to till for the next season's garden. He swore that the burned leaves, mixed in with the dirt, made a good garden. And since the bounty from that garden fed the entire family through the Depression and long after grandchildren joined the dinner table, it worked.
I loved the smell of burning leaves, the fun of tossing small sticks into the flames, the conversations of the adults who stood around watching it just in case, and the fun of dodging the smoke as the wind changed direction occasionally. Leaf burning was always on a still, windless day - simple common sense.
Ah, well. At least we still have a wood-burning fireplace, having resisted the installation of gas logs over the years. Thanksgiving was too warm for a good fire, but we're finally trending toward consistently cold weather. So we'll smell that cozy, wood-burning warmth very, very soon.