raking the stink

Years ago I read a poem in the Daily Universe, BYU's campus newspaper, written by a disgruntled student groundskeeper. The poet expressed her disdain for the supervisor who, in the early morning hours of fall semester, made her "rake the stink." That descriptive phrase resurfaced this Saturday as Fran, Alison, Deena, Mike and I tackled the yard at THE HOUSE for what may have been the last time. It wasn't the "fetid jelly" oozing through the teeth of my rake that made my stomach turn, as much as the idea of abandoned harvests. Unrecognizable fruit guts hidden under layers of fallen dry leaves served as a reminder to celebrate things in their season. What could have been a tasty treat was now a stinky chore, all because of procrastination. Prophets have declared that "by their fruits ye shall know them." Today I resolve to be represented by choice fruits, and not rotting apples and pears.