When Autumn Leaves

When Autumn leaves, I'll be happy. Right now we're knee-deep in oak leaves and raking seems hopeless. Maybe they'll all blow away, get sucked up into a passing cyclonic spout and spew forth somewhere else.

My diminutive ornamentals, mothers day gifts from my sons, are more manageable. Small trees leave small messes. That's a weeping birch on the left. I used to be frightened by birch trees when I was very young. I thought their dark eyes were staring at me. Birches don't naturally weep. This one was trained to, and I'm guessing it was painful. Birches look especially good surrounded by snow. That's when they look at you and try to make you feel guilty that they're cold and alone.


The Japanese maple at right has just burst into flames. The variety is "bloodgood" and who doesn't want good blood? The fingery leaves drip drip drip onto the ground, a crimsom pool staining the dull brown carpet.

We're in the thick of autumn now. Save for the maple tree, color has peaked and blah is the dominant palette. It's still fairly warm, so it's pleasant to go outside and rake for an hour or so. It's good exercise and you're steeped in nature's beauty. That makes up for the futility of the task.