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BY CHRIS CHRISTEN
INSPIRED HOME OMAHA EDITOR

October is my favorite month of the year.

It reminds me of my dad.

He had a love-hate relationship with a huge linden tree.

Each autumn, Dad cussed the tree for the mounds of leaves it dumped on his yard. (The dropping of seasonal seeds was only a minor nuisance.) The rest of the year, he coveted that tree for its shade and shelter.

Dad spent many days the last five years of his life sitting under the linden's dense green canopy. He enjoyed watching the comings and goings of the birds and squirrels. Feeders made it a high-traffic area.

The tree was partially hollow and sat, especially in a high wind, a little too close to the house for everyone's comfort. My mother repeatedly advocated the linden's removal but she knew better than to call the tree trimmer. Divorce would have resulted.

I loved coming home for fall visits, turning into the crushed-rock driveway and finding my dad waiting at the cedar picnic table under the tree. We spent many a Saturday raking, bagging and hauling leaves from the base of the linden.

The fall of 2003, Dad did the job himself, tethered to about 50 feet of oxygen tubing. I'm glad I wasn't home to see it. But I wasn't surprised to hear he had done it. He filled 16 heavy-duty garbage bags with leaves, threw them into the bed of his rusty blue pickup and hauled the load to the city dump. He was spent, but proud.

The next fall, he was in hospice. And my brother and I raked the leaves.

The giant linden belongs to someone else now. But I have the picnic table and the feeders. And piles and piles of leaves from lindens of my own.

Happy raking!