Hardhat Time

It's that time of year again -- hardhat time.

We live in an oak-forested neighborhood, with the trees several times taller than our short roofs. It's lovely in the summer for shade and for keeping us cool. In late October and November, however, I often wonder about the wisdom of living in an oak forest.

Our mailbox is 80 paces from our front door. It's not at the end of our drive, which doesn't lead onto the street of our address. We live on a corner lot. The mailbox is in the middle of our property line, on "our"street. Many times I can simply cut across the front yard to it. But on puddly, mushy-ground days, and then basically all winter long -- about 8 months of the year -- I must walk out the front door, down the long driveway to "the other street," then go around the corner (no sidewalks or curb and gutters in this city neighborhood), and half-way down our property to the box which is the daily depository for bills and junk mail. The good part: 160 paces a day is good exercise, right?

So where do hardhats come into the picture? Imagine pretty autumn. Imagine "ripe" brown acorns. Imagine getting bonked on the head and shoulders from nuts dropping from 70 feet above.

Yeah. Hardhat time.