“Those leaves are on your side.”

“They ain’t my leaves”

“If they’re on your side, then they’re yours.”

“Hogwash!”

Barney Hemsworth stood on the edge of his property, staring down his obnoxious neighbor, Riley Ridder. Barney was holding a leaf rake, wishing it were perhaps a baseball bat, or worse, a twenty-two. Hovering a few feet away, on the edge of his property, with his hands in the pockets of his Levi coveralls, Riley gawked at Barney. Riley was ready for a fight and Barney would be his opponent.

Barney had ire in his voice as he directed his voice toward Riley. “We go through this every damned year. If the leaves are on your property, you got to rake them up.”

Riley responded. “Those leaves fell off of your tree. Those are oak leaves and I ain’t got no oak trees. You got lots of oak trees, which makes those leaves yours. Now, get to raking before I call the authorities.”

“They’re only my leaves while they’re on the trees. Once they take flight, they belong to whose ever property they fall in. And that would be yours. You’d be wise to pull your lazy hands out of your pockets, fetch a rake, and start raking.”

Riley was getting hot under the collar. “It’s your lazy ass that sits around and waits for the wind to whoop up and blow the leaves my way. If you’d get busy when the leaves drop instead of watching Wheel of Fortune reruns all day, them leaves would be bagged up and ready for the landfill.”

Barney and Riley had lived next to each other for over thirty years. For twenty-nine of those years, they argued about whose responsibility it was to rake. The only year they didn’t argue was back in eighty-seven when the Hemsworths spent three months in Portugal and Riley had both knees replaced. That fall, leaves remained on the ground. Surprisingly, none of the other neighbors complained.

Arguments always sounded the same. Either Barney or Riley would accuse the other of not taking responsibility for his leaves, while the other would blame the first for waiting for favorable winds to blow the leaves onto his property. Eventually, either Blanche Hemsworth or Randi Ridder would give their respective husband an earful, and either Barney of Riley would reluctantly rake the leaves. Throughout the following winter, whomever raked the leaves never heard the end of the ridiculing from the one who didn’t rake.

Barney replied to Riley’s last comment. “You ever read that book Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein?”

“No, but I heard of it.” Riley answered.

“Well this is where my sidewalk ends, and all them leaves are over there.” Barney yelled, pointing toward Riley’s property. “Start raking, you lazy sack of sycamore stipule.”

Riley stood there for a moment. In twenty-nine years, he’d never been called a sack of sycamore stipule. He didn’t even know what stipule was. What he did know is that he wasn’t going to stand around taking abuse from Barney. “Don’t go nowhere you big ugly bag of birch bark.” Riley demanded, thinking he’d bested Barney’s blasphemous retort.

Riley ran to his garage and quickly returned with a leaf blower and several extension cords. “Just give me a minute and I’ll send all these leaves back onto your land where they belong.”

“Don’t make me get out my gas-powered blower. It’ll blow all the leaves back and blow you over at the same time.”

Barney and Riley stood there, holding their instruments of battle, waiting for the next person to comment. Just then, a strong gale came from the north. It was strong enough to blow the rake out of Barney’s hands, the blower and extension cords out of Riley’s hands, and both of their John Deere hats down the block. Within minutes, the leaves were half way down the street.

Riley looked up and smiled. “Well, how do you like that? The leaves are gone.”

Barney replied. “That was one Hell of a gust. Them leaves are all the way down in Gus Meyer’s yard.”

“Ain’t our problem anymore. See you later, Barney.”

“Think I’ll watch Jeopardy for a spell. Good talking with you Riley. Say hello to the Randi.

Barney went into his house and turned on the TV. Riley went into his house to see if he had a copy of Where the Sidewalk Ends. Thirty minutes later, they both looked out of their windows and saw Gus Meyer walking their way, holding two John Deere hats and a baseball bat.