Opinion
(2009-10-29)
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They are leaves, of course. The mighty muscular trees have had enough of them, have shaken and shrugged them off, aided and abetted by wind and in recent days deluges of rain. They lose the struggle against falling, of course. They blanket lawns. They turn curbside gutters into narrow rivers of gold. They hang onto their color as fiercely as they try to stay airborne.
They lose this battle, too, of course.
We help them on their way, not willingly at first, but finally accepting the reality that leaves are coming into the house on the wings of our shoes.
"A lot of leaves out there," she says.
"One more good wind will bring them all down," he says. "We'll wait. Get em all at once."
She looks up as if to evaluate this forecast.
"More than one good wind," she says. "Better get the first layer."
We fetch the rake and the broom and the bags and the industrial-size dust pan. We quickly dispense with the idea that leaves are mulch and should be allowed to do their job. This, we know, is another version of the "one good rain" ploy.
A neighbor walks out of his house. He apparently sets aside the idea that leaf-raking might be a community enterprise. Apparently, he's not in need of "a little exercise." Nor good for the soul.
One bends to the task. Knee-deep piles form. Bags are filled to overflowing. The final hands full are dumped in like popcorn at the movies.
A certain rhythm settles over the process. Rake, fill a bag, tie it shut, take it to the alley. Rake, fill, tie and carry. On the way, you pass the neat and tidy work of the man next door. He's way ahead, as always.
Nature's autumn festival now comes to a close. It's fleeting moments of grandeur fade and fall. The annual ballet is done. You've paid for the privilege.
Just the way it is. You know this: the dancers will be back next year.
You've been listening to a commentary by WYPR's Senior News Analyst Fraser Smith. Your' comments are welcome at fsmith@wypr.org. © Copyright 2009, wypr
