Every November I am consumed with the outdoors. It's not that I want to be but when the leaves fall from our trees there is nowhere for them to go but on our lawn. And one of my prime domestic jobs is to make sure they get to the street where the county can vacuum them (Quicktime, 2.2 MB).

I have never been the woodsy type. However, I am forced to contend with nature on this level once each year. And this year we have a particularly unruly crop of dead and moldy leaves. The dry November and strong winds have stirred up leaf dust that blocks the sun, makes me sneeze, and irritates my eyes. I'm surprised the Environmental Protection Agency hasn't teamed up with Homeland Security to issue a Mother Nature Red Alert.

If I must (and my wife tells me I must), why not make the best of it. To make my suburban nature experiences more enticing I often devise creative diversions: attempts to mold nature to my own iconoclastic ways (and to give new meaning to the phrase yard work). You might remember my lawn art (next to leaf blowing mowing our lawn is my least favorite home owning activity). Household boredom creates a black hole that is unstable. It must be met with an equal creative force.