The shift from autumn to winter always seems to be a moving target around here. Then again, that could be said about every change of season in our region.

The fall-to-winter shift is particularly stressful here at the Oliver homestead because we have three large trees on our lot. And when I say large, I mean very old and very big.

The burr oak in the front yard without fail jumps the gun when it comes to dropping its leaves. We have several oaks lining our street, so they all dump their leaves at the same time. This means my poor neighbor across the street sees all the leaves collect in his yard. However, it’s over in about three weeks.

The even bigger problem, both in size and in scope, is that we have two gargantuan silver maple trees in the backyard. They never seem to get the memo about having all their leaves down before December.

We play a cat-and-mouse game with the weather every fall with them. Some years, the snow holds off until mid-December and all is well. Then there are years like this one. Although, honestly, this year was particularly terrible timing.

We had a pretty good couple of days last week when the wind gusts managed to get the rest of the leaves off the maples. However, there was only one good day (Black Friday) where it would have been ideal to get the leaves dealt with. Sadly, that did not happen.

I’ve had to hire some help for my lawn this year, and my guys have been great about coming each week and vacuuming up the leaves. Except for last week.

Then, the snow started falling on Saturday and it just kept on coming. My guess is those remaining leaves will still be there come spring … whenever that will be.

Many things in my life resemble those maple trees. I have no control over the timing of things, and then I’m scrambling to try to figure out what I’m going to do next.

For instance, Tony’s other caregiver came down with the flu on Saturday. Up until this point, we’ve had a remarkable run of not having that happen. I suppose it was our time.

In the past, this really wasn’t too difficult of a situation. It just meant that I’d have to get Tony up and get him dressed before he has his breakfast. Missing a shower for a day or two wasn’t a big deal.

Before Andre took over that job, I was the one who helped Tony get his shower each morning. The job became too much for me around the time of my second breast cancer surgery. Little did we know at the time, but Tony was dealing with pain issues of his own, and he was aggressive and uncooperative.

Even though we’ve managed to get Tony’s pain under control, I’m still reluctant to reclaim the showering assignment. Tony is still far stronger than I am, and he’s still capable of hurting me if he doesn’t like something I’m doing.

These days the job has become harder because as Tony’s disease has progressed, he now wets the bed each night. We’ve tried just about every product out there, but none is 100% effective. That means that it’s more complicated than a simple change of clothes each morning.

There’s also the fact that I’m out of practice. In the old days, Tony and I had a set of cues that I’d use each day to get him to help me. He’d help me take off his shirt and T-shirt, and he’d help me get his socks off. I’m not going to say the process was ever perfect, but it worked well enough that we were able to do it together for years.

Most of the time now, all I have to deal with is the bottom half, particularly when Tony needs to be changed. We have a new set of cues, and he allows me to take care of things without too much fuss. Again, it’s not perfect, but we get it done.

On Saturday morning, I thought I would try some of our old cues to get his shirt off. They didn’t work. Neither did just about everything else I tried. Tony wasn’t having any of it. No amount of pleading with him made him budge.

So, once I hit my limit, I calmly found a pair of scissors, and I cut off both shirts. There was nothing else I could do. They were both wet and they couldn’t stay on him. I realize that there are shirts that are made to avoid this sort of thing, but remember, this isn’t usually my job. I did what I had to do.

In the end, Tony got cleaned up, dressed and had his breakfast. Was it perfect? No.

However, just as with the trees, there are some things over which I just don’t have any control.

• Joan Oliver is the former Northwest Herald assistant news editor. She has been associated with the Northwest Herald since 1990. She can be reached at jolivercolumn@gmail.com.