Living, loving and leaving
file under…? Three guesses, and the first two don’t count!
I have been having a love affair with leaves this month.
I watch intently for those first little bitty tinges of red, the blush before trees reveal their intentions so completely, so publicly. My anticipation mounts upon seeing at a distance the hint in the tree lines of that squeaky new green that intoxicates, teases, and promises even more excitement. And finally, finally, after months of stick grey verticals, I revel in their unfolding, happily, by the thousands and millions.
In full force, the maples spread a fluttery pattern against the sky. Dandelion leaves emerge overnight from nowhere and everywhere, reaching for the sun; falling short, they create their own. Oaks unfurl slowly, infant ear curls of pink and red.
The painted blue metal fingers of my rake uncover moist brown dirt as I scrape under azalea bushes. Leftovers of an earlier generation lie quietly in flattened, blackened layers after the commotion of autumn. Momentarily I am sober, reminded of the temporary nature of leaves and loves, of our own seasonal existences. And then, looking up, I cannot help but smile and begin to flirt again.
I giggle as seedpods do their helicopter twirl to the deck and driveway. I swoon during commutes on highways draped once more in green. And I relax at the end of the day, grateful for the return of shade and tree shadow.
Welcome back, leaves. Your absence certainly made my heart grow fonder.