A Bit Like Chicken Little

Mr. H. and I closed on our house on September 15, 2005, and quickly learned the price of living in the midst of an oak forest. That price is bazillions of acorns falling from September through December. Luckily it's only really bad every other year. I mean we get acorns every year, but every other year you get pelted with acorns every time you go into the yard, like that part in the Wizard of Oz where Dorthy and the Scarecrow have apples thrown at them by the talking trees.
This year is a big year. Even when you're in the house you hear them every few seconds, dropping on to the roof and then rolling into the yard. It is good that the previous owners installed gutter guards or we'd have baby oak trees growing out of the gutters.
The day I picked Jenni up in St. Louis, Boy had to be at home alone for a half hour until Mr. H and Girl got home. I got a frantic call from him on my cell phone. He was terrified because he kept thinking he heard someone in the house. It was the acorns.
I've looked up various acorn recipes, but they all seem like a lot of work for not a lot of reward. you have to boil, rinse, boil, rinse, etc. until the water stays clear to get all of the tannins out because they are bitter and in large quantities, poisonous. However, if you're willing to try them out, you are more than welcome to my harvest. Otherwise we'll just sweep, or rake them up and toss them by the bucketful into the ravine for the squirrels.