It’s
just a leaf.
One
leaf.
Sure,
it’s going to be followed by many more. Hundreds from the same
tree. Thousands in my yard. Hundreds to thousands to millions
to countless leaves from the trees in my neighborhood and beyond.
Falling
one at a time.
I
had a neighbor that, as a very simplified way of saying it, never
raked any leaves. It wasn’t some deeply personal push benefitting
nature. He simply didn’t have to. There was little brush around,
as just one part of the setting, and the yards around us act as
wind tunnels. If he delayed, procrastinated and ignored the leaves—or
whatever other descriptive way would like to say it—long enough,
his leaves would be my leaves. Blown away from his yard, then
across mine, eventually settling into my drainage ditches.
There
are some folks that believe falling leaves are an important part
of environmental cycles and more, and shouldn’t be raked up. It’s
not a far-fetched concept. There are many reasons that support
such an approach: good for the soil, assists helpful insects,
cuts down on pollution from leaf blowers and other equipment,
saves time, and so on. A blanket of leaves across your yard provides
a long list of benefits.
That
said, I’ve certainly seen my moments of leaves creating problems.
They clog downspouts and other pipes and such. They blow around
in the wind and create piles in different places where you really
would prefer they weren’t gathering, often trapping moisture and
damaging structures. And I don’t know about you, but I prefer
not skidding or spinning wheels on my driveway. (So, there, just
a couple of reasons to clean up the leaves and I never tried to
claim that the yard just looks prettier when cleared.)
Chances
are good that nothing I’ve said here sways you in any particular
direction. You might rake. Might not. Nothing I’ve shared so far
should change that. Which is a fair observation on your part,
since I didn’t set out in an attempt to shift your perspective.
Instead, I’m just seeing leaves on the ground now, and thinking
about the yardwork I have in front of me. A snow fence to put
in place. Swapping equipment, like putting the lawn mower in the
shed and bringing the snowblower to the garage. A falling leaf
is a sign of many things beyond foliage.
There’s
very few things you can count on when it comes to nature and the
outdoors. Obviously, that’s not a completely true statement. Nature
is beautiful, wonderful and powerful. And it offers so many things
that are necessary and reliable for us. But you can’t tell me
how many feet of snow I’m going to see over the next few months.
You can’t tell me how many days of excessive heat or brutal cold
are headed my way over the next twelve months. You can’t tell
me for certain about wind and rain and so many other things. But…
In
my lifetime, while not on a set date, the leaves do fall every
year.
In
my lifetime, while not on a set date, the plants will push through
the ground every year.
Fall
and spring.
We
talk about winter (and snow and hot cocoa) and summer (and heat
and barbecue), which as seasons tend to get all the public relations
and marketing and media hype. We get fed pumpkin spice, sure,
but fall and spring tend to take a secondary status of sorts.
That kind of amazes me, since thanks to foliage and blossoms,
they tend to be the two most reliable sources of annual seasonal
markers.
It’s
just a leaf.
One
leaf.
Only,
it’s not. It’s so much more.