When I was younger, my grandmother had a house with an enormous back yard. It’s probably not as big as I remember it being, but it was a good size in any case.
Her yard had some impressively large trees. I remember climbing part way up the one that had low, fat branches. I was not as brave as my cousin who went much higher. Not that I had a fear of heights. The prospect of falling was what kept me on the lower, fatter branches.
The trees were the deciduous sort, so every fall, they ditched all their leaves in a yellow and brown sheet across the yard.
When visiting grandma, my cousin, brother, and I would grab rakes and get all the leaves together in one huge pile then run full tilt and jump into the pile. That scattered the leaves and we raked them together for another go.