The Bowling house is blessed with dozens of mature oaks, shading us from the summer heat and establishing an adventurous childhood setting. While the beauty is idyllic, the constant encroachment of nature unites Bowling dad with suburbanites across this great nation in the trench warfare of grass-growing.
In our sixth season, the movement of fallen leaves from green to brown areas of the property has been effectively mastered, spurred on by Bowling mom's desire for order, dad's desire to be outside away from the noise of the kids, and the children's desire to make leaf piles. A solid 6-hour day (replete with Waffle House and Target toy section bribery) cleanses the yard of its accumulated debris... almost.
For while we have historically had squirrels living in every part and parcel of our land (a bit on this matter found here), they do not care for our acorns. The tiny little buggers escape the rakes, ignore the blowers, and are too many to count. At the end of clean-up day, you are too tired to care about such trivialities, allowing nature to outflank Bowling dad and sow the seeds to next Spring's patchy-grass.
While the property's rodents have proven uninterested in these acorns, the children proved otherwise, spurred on by a simple "Penny an Acorn" trade in program, modeled off of the questionably successful city's Anonymous Gun Buy Back Program the family volunteers at each year.
In the one hour program window, Emily and Louise partnered with the neighborhood Huck Finn to collect 1,100 acorns, split 3 ways, walking away with $4.00 each (I rounded up). Elizabeth and Garrett (and let me be clear who was in charge of this venture) continued working while Bowling dad counted the other team's earnings, and then begged for an extension. After two hours of collection, they turned in 2,200 acorns ($12 for Eliza, $10 for Garrett (don't ask)). Bowling mom was not pleased with Bowling dad. Bowling dad sees this as an investment in next year's greenery.