As the mercury inside North Idaho thermometers recedes, so does the desire to spend much time outdoors.

Raking leaves, cleaning the roof and gutters and freeing the ol' homestead of the multi-colored autumn assault before the coming albino onslaught doesn't exactly get my heart pumping with anticipation.

I think back to fall seasons past, back when I was killing time between summer and winter in central Montana. A lot of fun was garnered with falling leaves and pigskins.

First off, leaves had many uses. Mounds of cottonwood, oak, lilac and elm leaves were abundant all over town, and leaf diving wasn't just something they did in the Peanuts comic strip.

A good pile, at least 2 feet deep, was enough cushion (barring any unforeseen sharp object within) to accept your best leap and leave you unharmed.

But to really enjoy ourselves, we'd gather enough to mound upward at least 4 feet high, and with a running start, do our best superhero impression, flying though the air with the greatest of ease.

After a few weeks of leaf leaping, it was time to burn the evidence. Columns of white and gray smoke billowed upward all over town in late October and early November.

Sometimes a damp pile would need a little "assistance" in incineration. Usually a few dabs of gasoline were enough to create some heat and dry out the stuff so it would burn.

I believe my first time I walked around a couple of times while saturating the pile. Somehow I had the forethought to flick the match at the pile from an upright position instead of leaning over and holding it in place. The pile sucked in the flame and made a very large 'fooomph!' sound as the top half of the pile pushed skybound for an instant. Hmmm ... maybe just a wee bit too much gas ...

I also remember many a weekend tossing the football around out in the driveway or street prior to an afternoon of watching college or pro teams on the tube. Often an impromptu pick-up game would commence with some neighborhood kids. All you needed was three (a quarterback, receiver and defender), and the competition was on.

Plays consisted of the 'run past those first two cars, button-hook around the Plymouth Volare and I'll hit you in the middle of the street' variety.

Pass patterns tended to simplify when more players were involved. Usually a good group of participants meant you were headed to the nearest park or field for more room, and less chance of a wide receiver vs. Volvo encounter.

With the introduction of the Nerf football, a quick game of catch didn't leave you with a sore shoulder afterward. They were a little tricky to catch, as you really had to grip the spiraling sphere, or you'd inevitably end up chasing a bounding ball back and forth until you corralled it.

Here's one last thought that might get you out in the yard for cleanup duty: Whatever the weather is like out there now, you can bet it'll be much worse in a few weeks. So rake up a big pile and do your best superhero or Charlie Brown impression.

Jerry Hitchcock, whose yard needs to be mowed once more before winter, is a copy editor for The Press. He can be reached at 664-8176 Ext. 2017, or via email at [email protected]