The Leaves of Autumn: Mother Nature's Treasure


              I just had to share this picture with you. I know, the cell phone camera doesn’t ever quite show it in half the splendor of viewing it in real life, but when you stand at this second story picture window and look into the heart of this tree with the sunlight shining through, you feel as though you’ve fallen face-first into that legendary pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. It’s hard to find words to describe the breath-taking exhilaration of being surrounded by such radiant beauty.


              And when you walk through the local park, it looks as though that pot of gold has burst all over the grassy slopes and meadows.

              My Grandmother once called it the “Spices of Autumn”. She was referring to that tangy aroma that emanates from the forest only this one crispy time of the year. It’s a culmination of berries and leaves reaching their ripest state and returning to the earth for the year. It’s an aroma I remember very well.

              It was always there on thanksgiving weekends on the farm many, many years ago. The forest would be rich with it as the we played in huge piles of leaves that had been kindly raked up for us under the old swing. We’d swing as high as our furiously pumping little legs would take us, then, at a chosen moment, we’d release the swing and sail through the air, for one moment as free as the wild geese crossing the sky high above us. The we’d land with a glorious, crispy “smunch!” in the mounds of gold and yellow and red beneath us. Eventually, we’d have to help bundle all the leaves up and pile them into the back of the truck to be driven out to the field. By this time, the harvest was already in and the fields were all acres of black, freshly tilled soil with, perhaps, some stubble remaining. Sitting in the back of the truck, we’d be driven up and down the field, throwing great armloads of leaves out to the winds, to be carried away in great orangy-gold ribbons behind us. We were told they would decay, out there, turn into fertilizer, and make the soil all that much richer for next year’s crop.

              Here, we’ve stumbled upon a great debate. Why DO we rake up the leaves off our lawn, each year, and is it really necessary? They look so beautiful out there, and they’re wonderful fun for the kids. Plus they eventually turn into mulch and enrich the soil. It seems kind of ridiculous to see this completely biodegradable material wrapped up in utterly non-biodegradable plastic bags to be taken to sit in a landfill for thousands of years, when they could be beautifully decorating our neighborhoods for a little while, then helping Mother Nature to remain her healthiest and most vibrant.

              After all, no one rakes the forest, do they? And it exists just fine for years, decades, or even centuries, with all those leaves lying around. In point of fact, even basic research suggests that the leaves, twigs, and other forest debris that accumulate there are tremendously important. The forest floor is known for it’s rich biodiversity, and I haven’t heard anyone suggest that it’s even remotely possible for us to completely understand all that goes on down there, all that lives among that debris, and how each relates and interacts with all the others. Some have even suggested that anyone trying to “clean up” the leaf debris might do considerable damage to the forest ecosystem.

              The leaves fall of the trees for a reason. Mother Nature planned it that way. So we do we interfere and rake them all up and chase them away. Well, there may be an understandable reason, actually, at least as far as our lawns are concerned. Left to their own devices they will mulch and decay under the snow and, possibly, create a bit of an unsightly mess in the spring. It’s easy to see why people wouldn’t want that near where they live.

              Some suggestions have been made. One is to mow the leaves to shreds and leave the shreds where they lay to enrich the soil without making a mess. Another idea could be to sprinkle them over your garden to mulch and provide you with a much richer vegetable patch next spring.

              Either way, the next time you step out in the park, or the woods and get a whiff of those delicious autumn spices, remember that it’s the aroma of one of Mother Nature’s most vital processes. Then, take a moment to drink it in perhaps just a little deeper than maybe you once would have.

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