What I Really Know About Autumn Leaves
I don’t like August because of its proximity to September; September means the end of summer. In August, an occasional ruby or burnt orange leaf will float from the huge oaks in my yard. It is a harbinger of the leafy avalanche that will follow, starting in September.
Many people enjoy ‘fall foliage.’ They travel hundreds of miles to New England, or West Virginia’s Blue Ridge Mountains or Letchworth State Park, which is one hour south of Buffalo, to see what is visible in their own yards—leaves turning scarlet or canary yellow, cascading from branches and creating small hills until they are shoveled into garbage bags.
Children love to jump in the piles of raked leaves that their parents have left by the curb. Families burn leaves in backyards, creating an acridity that permeates the neighborhood.
Some people love the change of seasons and the vibrant, changing hues of the leaves. Some think these colors are spectacular.
I don’t.
Green leaves are spectacular to me; they symbolize spring and summer—my favorite seasons. Their greenery means warmth, bikes, the relentlessly repetitive jingle of the ice cream truck and open windows at night. It means noisy lawnmowers and the smell of newly cut grass. Green leaves mean that I am free to walk outside without layers of clothing and without fearing that I might fall on the wet or icy pavement.
Autumn leaves end my summer freedoms; their appearance means that they are dying. Soon they will be a crunchy mess on the ground. Lawns resemble patchwork quilts with meandering, wind-tossed leaves. Rain makes the leaves slippery, and walking becomes hazardous.
My gutters and downspouts will be clogged with leaves. Lower temperatures, chillier winds and heavier clothing accompany the autumn leaves, which cling to the trees until the end of October. Winds force the remainder to the ground where laughing children pounce, slide and trample on them on their way to school.
November means naked trees; almost all the leaves are gone now. Bare branches dictate the landscape for the next five months. Snowflakes swirl around the trees which used to host swaying greenery tickled by summer’s soft breezes. As the snow accumulates, wilted, brittle brown leaves poke out of the tops of snow banks.
Gold and crimson leaves are sad messengers of winter’s dreary, leafless impending arrival. Oaks, maples and white birches look pathetic. Their graceful, baron branches resemble a parent’s outstretched arms, yearning for the return of baby green buds.
Falling leaves announce summer’s departure.
What I really know about autumn leaves is that they make me sad.
Article Source: http://www.articlesbase.com/nature-articles/what-i-really-know-about-autumn-leaves-194403.html
Author: Eileen Gordon
About the Author:
Former teacher, pianist, wife, mother.
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