October is all about leaves and imagination.
In spring I enjoy the sight and smells of pink and white blossoms.
In summer, I appreciate the cool shade. But when autumn arrives I renew my hands-on connection with the leaves.
But fall leaves are my favorite. Last chance for a daily fall festival in my own yard!
My love for fall, and its leaves, started one boring autumn day in my childhood.
Under the urging of my parents to, “Get some fresh air!” I absentmindedly circled my elementary school, sad that none of my friends were around to play. All of a sudden, there it was! A thick, golden carpet of freshly fallen leaves spreading out before me within a low-fenced yard.
It was breathtakingl. It was perfect!
The leafy carpet silently called to me to enter and walk through the leaves. The invitation to make first tracks, like on smooth sand at a beach
or in freshly fallen snow,
was irresistible. There was no one around to object. No harm to be done. So I hopped the useless fence and began my adventure with the leaves.
First I listened to the surprising loud crunch of the yellow foliage beneath my sneakers as I shuffled along. Then, I cleared a narrow green path, bordered by the golden leaves. The course ran in overlapping circles and criss-crossed around the standing trees, occasionally slicing through with tangential lines. Cheeks pink from effort and chill, I admired the golden maze I’d made. It was transformed into a magical kingdom
to race through, meet dragons, make castles. Some friends happened upon the scene and joined in the fun. We spent the rest of the afternoon and into the long shadows of dusk playing along those leafy paths.
As I reluctantly headed home, that night, I made a promise to return to the golden kingdom. But childhood promises are interrupted by routines in a kid’s world. When I finally returned, the magical maze of golden leaves had vanished, stripped of the gold carpet right down to a manicured green lawn. My gaze searched the barren branches of the tall trees, but their silence gave only an understanding apology of the inevitable.
That’s when my love for fall leaves began, and continues today.
A large Royal Maple towers in my front yard. Its leaves are broad, dark purple, almost black but will turn rust by fall’s end. Every year my Maple holds on to its leaves until mid October when it flirtatiously sprinkles a few onto my lawn, just to see if I notice.
This reminds me of stories where a royal princess accidentally-on-purpose, drops her handkerchief and waits for an interested someone to pick it up.
I’m that interested someone and eager to begin my daily retrieval of dropped leaves. Ahh, my Fall Festival of Imaginary Fun has begun!
Scritch, scritch, scritch, the strokes of my metal rake pull crisp, wrinkled leaves across the lawn to the sidewalk. I imagine the narrow tongs of the rake giving a welcome back rub to the earth before entering winter’s long nap.
Slow, rhythmic sweeps of the broom pull the crinkly leaves over and against each other as I collect them into a pile on the sidewalk. Each swipe sounds like waves striking a distant shore and I am transported there in my mind.
I sweep the curb in front of my house and think of European shopkeepers I read about, who daily swept the street and sidewalks in front of their stores before opening for business. I relate to their community pride and commitment to cleanliness and sweep on.
The wind teases and snatches swept leaves as I try to scoop them into the large paper bag. I don’t mind the playful delay knowing my persistence will win.
I survey my work with satisfaction. I’ve had exercise, raking, sweeping, bending, scooping. My cheeks blush from the kiss of brisk air. My imagination has visited a shoreline with lapping waves. I pretended to join the hardworking people in other countries and past times.
This festival of imaginary fun beckons me daily. I answer the call until all the leaves are gone from the big Maple.
I invite you to immerse yourself in this complimentary gift at your feet. Walk. Rake. Sweep. Do one or all; once or daily. Allow yourself a jaunt among the leaves. Hear the crackle beneath your feet, or their imitation of waves upon the beach. Allow your imagination to transport you to other lands, connect with those past and present who find joy in interacting with the leaves of fall.
Next time a tree drops a leaf at your feet, accept the invitation and enjoy the pleasures of leaves.
Happy Fall’s Festival of Imaginary Fun!
