Bombs Away!

Fall. I know why it's called that. It's called that because of all the stuff that falls out of the trees this time of year, the most spectacular of which are the leaves.

There is another volume of debris which falls off the trees this time of year. Living in a home surrounded by large old oak trees that fact is not lost on me. You know those pretty little acorns, those nuts with their tidy little caps that decorate many a Thanksgiving centerpiece? Here's the news: You don't have to pick them. Our drive and walkways are pretty well peppered by now. Quite a hazard to a 4 year-old riding his bike on a driveway blanketed with the marble size obstacles. Great for twisting weary old ankles as well. Yes, I sweep. The lawn crew blows. Next day, same thing. I wish I could extract petroleum from the things.

This house is a one story ranch with a low peaked roof.  The roof over my bed has foam insulation which, while efficient, does not strike me as offering the degree of sound dampening I would like. When those acorns hit our roof at night the impact is like that of a rock being thrown. In fact, I'm inclined to think the damn squirrels are having drunken parties and laughing their tails off as they hurl their little bombs at our sleeping quarters. After impact you can hear the projectiles tumbling across the shingles to roof's edge where, hopefully, they'll make it over the gutter and fall to the ground below.

All this came to mind the other night when we had a bit of wind. I awoke and lay there counting the seconds between impacts, trying to get back to sleep. Sheep are much quieter.