I've been doing battle with this tree across the street for months.
In some strange Hawaii autumn-like phase, it's been dropping millions of tiny leaves and big evil pods like mad all over our yard, vehicles, and house. Every day I would sweep, every day it would drop more leaves, and so on. I will give the tree credit for winning. It just wore me down!
Now that the tree seems to be finished raining down its daily mess, I realized it was high time I pulled the few weeds I saw last week and cleaned up the front bed. Yikes.
This became time-consuming pretty quickly. I'm obviously not a good gardener. I do love the results of gardening, but tend to forget to get around to the upkeep of it, so we don't need to discuss the number of plants that have met an untimely death under my watch. However, once I get working outside, I quickly remember how much I do enjoy it. I love the quiet, the time for thinking, the connection with nature. So I got digging around pretty good with my little rake. In my zeal, I accidentally pulled a good plant up by its roots, and I'm pretty certain I touched cat poo at one point.
The younger me would have been frustrated that I let it get this bad, berated myself over the thought that if I had just worked on it a little bit at a time, it wouldn't have become such a big job...I've been told that the inside of your purse and the state of your yard show the state of your mind, and to that I say: oh well.
And at the end of it all, I found this perfect little nest blown down from the big tree. We can miss these little things if we fret too much.