Some reflections on raking leaves 

This is the first day after the resumption of standard time  – the sun is going down, and it is only 4:00 – a sudden harbinger of winter, I hate to say. Everyone seemed to be in a rush today.  People pulling their children around in trailers behind golf carts, my next door neighbour on his motorcycle, the farmer at the end of the street still working in the field – they were all going at full throttle, it seemed. Even a mother cat was urging her two distracted black kittens along impatiently. There must be something instinctive, no matter what one is doing, about rushing and prolonging the fall before the snow comes.

 I was out raking leaves this afternoon. I wish I had my young grandson alongside because the possibilities for leaf houses and leaf piles were endless!  I enjoyed getting into a rhythm of raking, and I didn’t rush. I am more methodical than I used to be:  not so much out of desire, but by necessity. Slow and steady wins my race.   It is rather nice not to have to go anywhere, just be raking on a windy afternoon.

The wind did blow back some of the leaves, but all in all, I got them to the side of the road — mostly .  It gives such a satisfying sense of accomplishment to see the grass gradually re-appearing from beneath the leaves even though it was at the expense of that gorgeous carpet of gold. 

However, from a practical point of view, the leaves won’t stifle the grass, and clearing out the flower beds will make the bulb’s job that much easier in the spring if they don’t have to poke through dead leaves. …

 

I can’t say I am enthused about bagging the leaves.  I hope our yard guy, who has to go in hospital for a minor operation, is soon able to help us with that. We had upwards of 65 bags a few years ago – Greg took them to the composting centre at the edge of town.  

And there are many leaves still to fall. After I finished raking, I looked at our ghoulish smiling jack o' lantern sitting on the railing of the deck. It may smirk now, but there are traces of black mould around its face, and the compost heap waits as well  for it.