.....leaf music

Yogis,
The leaves have begun to fall in earnest. Over the years it does seem to be happening later in the season, but one way or another, sooner or later, they will indeed come down.

For the next few weeks it will be the sound of leaves that fill the air. They will be crunched under foot. Scampering squirrels, sounding much bigger than they are, will stir them up. Cars crush them and the hum of leaf blowers pushing them toward the street. Brooms in the morning clear the walk.

There is no sneaking up on someone when the grass is leaf covered. Every step a melody.

Running on the bike path today I noticed something. This time of year, by looking down you can know what is above.

For a block my shoes land on maple leaves with their pointy ends. Bright oranges and yellows. Maple trees must be overhead. Then the large lobed oak leaves are underfoot, followed by bright red Japanese maple leaves and those of the pin oak. Tiny leaves of the newly planted and giant ones of the grandfathers. The leaves offer up a reflection.

A leaf landing on my front steps sounds different than one that lays itself gracefully on top of the bush. Hitting the metal air handler. On the wood of the picnic table. The roof. The deck. Each its own note.

Suddenly a clearing on a path. Ahhh, I must be under the evergreens.

Heading up the hill, a car passes by and a trail of leaves swirl in its wake as they brush the pavement. They rustle. They crunch. They pop. When burned they crackle. With my eyes to the ground, I am startled when one lands on my head. They glide. They twirl.

For now I watch out my window as one leaf quietly floats by at a time, knowing that when the next big winds arrive they will let go in droves and fill the fall air. Each variety singing a slightly different note as it brushes itself against the air. The lawn will then be blanketed and the rake will come out and be dusted off. One more sound will arise as I begin to find my raking rhythm.

Can you hear the leaf music?

Crunch,
SARAH