Petoskey — The weather turns, and the leaves erupt in color. Red, yellow, and orange. They light up the sky for a brief moment in time. And then they fall. The land is covered in a colorful blanket.

And so we set about removing these fallen leaves that were once brilliant little flags waving in the sunny sky. It’s time for them to go. There are two camps: the leaf blowers and the rakers. Every autumn, a debate that rages under the surface of the season. Leaf Blower vs. Rake. 

In the leaf blower there is an ideology. In the rake there is a philosophy. These two tools tell us something different about how we relate to nature and life.

The Leaf Blower

It’s quick and efficient, the right tool for the job, a well-oiled machine. Man wields the leaf blower like a weapon. He pulls the trigger, and the mechanical gusts of wind are set in motion. The leaf blower makes its will known mercilessly. Man stands in one place, as countless leaves are whipped up into the air and toward the road. He skulks around the house, blasting the shrubs, hunting and driving out every last leaf. He inches across the yard. The barrel of the blower hovering inches above the wet grass. Back and forth, back and forth. Canvassing. Like an unstoppable military force waging a campaign on foreign soil, it clears the area, no stone left unturned. 

The leaf blower solidifies man’s dominion over nature. It reveals the total technological supremacy of modern man. Great tall trees are no match for this powerful weapon. A pull of the trigger, and every little leaf is brought to heel. Man is solitary with his blower. Silently, he proceeds. No words are spoken, no fraternization expected. Autumn lasts weeks, but it only takes minutes to erase its memory. 

But it comes with a cost. The sound of the leaf blower is unpleasant. It’s irritating. A battery-powered blower is a high whine in the distance, a vacuum left on. The gas-powered leaf blower sounds like a chainsaw. It’s obnoxious. It’s noise pollution. No sane man would ever claim to find the sound of the blower beautiful. It echoes across the street and down the block, and, once one neighbor is done, another fires up his. A cacophony of irritating noise cascades across the neighborhood. The sound of a leaf blower contaminates the serene sound of an autumn afternoon. The sound of the breeze in the branches is muted. The geese above are seen but not heard. The beautiful sounds of the world are assaulted by the terrible blower.

The leaf blower makes man’s life so much easier, but it corrupts the world around him.

The Rake

The rake is an old friend. A tool from yesteryear. It was with us before the car and the computer. The rake does no work for man. There is no trigger to be pulled. No battery to charge. It is an equal partner in the work. Man grasps the wooden pole with both hands, levels the tines onto the ground, and pulls. He drags and drags. At first, the leaves come slowly. Then he digs harder and draws deeper bunches toward himself, past his legs, and in the direction of the bag waiting a few feet away.

The rake is a partnership. Man’s muscle moves the tool. The bigger the pile, the harder the pull. His body and his muscles feel a direct correlation with the natural result of autumn. The larger the tree, the harder the job. Sweeping the colorful ground, man is, truly, of nature. 

The rake is silent. Only the sweeping sounds of one hundred leaves are heard in the autumn air. As the leaves are hoisted up and thrown, that earthy smell floats upwards. The smell of fallen leaves is the smell of autumn. It’s subtle, indescribable. It gets stuck in man’s nose and fills his memories. The rake gives this to man.

The rake is social. Man rakes with others. In the back on a Saturday afternoon, families rake together. The parents rake the leaves into great piles around the yard, while children take turns running and jumping into the piles. The low November sun shines through the barren branches. Voices and laughter fill the air. The sound of the leaves swooshing. Geese honk above. Man is drawn into nature. The rake demands more of man, and it gives him something back in return.

The leaf blower or the rake: Is there a correct choice? It’s never that simple, but ours is a time of choosing nonetheless.

O.W. Root is a writer based in Northern Michigan, with a focus on nature, food, style, and culture. Follow him on X @NecktieSalvage.