Day 14: Leafy Love

I’m pretty sure the tree outside my front porch used to belong to a Disney villain. It isn’t very tall but it likes to assert itself. Every time it gets trimmed it grows back even taller and faster than before, like the pruned limbs were somehow holding it back from its real goal which is to steal the clouds from the sky. It bears little purple berries that someone told me are crab apples, but I’ve read my fairy tales and I am not silly enough to actually try one. The tree had a tag identifying it once upon a time, left over from the previous owner who planted it. I tried to read it once but couldn’t make out what it said, and then the tree bark neatly subsumed it and now all that is left is a bit of yellow plastic poking out of the trunk. If the tree doesn’t want its true name known, who am I to argue?

Any way, if my tree is not plotting ways to grow taller, it likes to act like the Whomping Willow from Harry Potter. It enjoys smacking guests who come up the walkway and especially likes snagging my sweaters. Also like the Whomping Willow, it doesn’t like to lose its leaves gradually; rather it dumps a few here and there and then goes totally bare in the blink of an eye. It still has a few leaves left on it now, it wasn’t totally successful in shedding them this weekend, but it tried.

The deceptively docile trees leaves are the most gorgeous purple/red color and I think I am going to collect a few this year and make some sort of shadow box out of them. They look like crimson fruit leather or even real leather for that matter. Some are buttery golden yellow and I wish they could be that color year round. They looked especially beautiful this weekend when the heavens let loose and poured out some much needed rain. In the aftermath the leaves looked to be bedecked with tiny diamonds sparkling in the sunlight. My bejeweled tree easily outshone anything created by Tiffany and Co.

I love watching the leaves turn. Its nature’s final bow before the brittle fingers of winter steal the warm breath from our lungs and cover the fallen beauty. But as much as I love looking at the leaves, I love playing in them even more. I love the crackling sound they make as they are swept up. I love the sound of their whispers as they float down from on high. Some people like snow angels, I like leaf angels. I love to toss them in the air and blow them around with my leaf blower. My dog likes to bounce in them like a Tigger and pretend to hide so I can’t see him. He growls at them and pounces until a particularly large pile topples over, and then he bravely runs away. Leaves are fun for the whole family.

I used to watch shows where people would jump in piles of leaves and frolic. I read about it, I heard about it and by golly I wanted to do it, but I could never get a large enough pile together to do it, or if I could, they were wet and not conducive to jumping or frolicking in. Wet leaves are gross. But one day, one glorious fall day, I was over at a friend’s house playing and her father and brother had just raked an enormous pile of leaves.  It was right there. RIGHT. THERE off of the front porch, and it was calling my name. Her father and brother went to put their rakes away and I told my friend I was going to go for it. She told me I had better not. I figured she was a killjoy who wanted the leafy goodness all to herself and there was no way I was going to let that happen.  So before she could stop me I climbed up onto the porch railing and jumped. I expected to float gently into the pile just like a leaf on the wind. I expected to land on the crackling mound and bounce like on a trampoline or slightly squishy bed. Instead I went right through the pile to the cold and unforgiving concrete below. I did not land like a leaf on the wind; I landed like a bunch of wet laundry on a linoleum floor. I bruised my ego and my butt. I lay there slightly winded and in pain and wondering what the heck happened. My friend ran to get her dad and brother and I lay in a sad, confused, and achy lump. I didn’t break anything thank goodness, but I sure felt dumb. Those lying leaf jumpers, how come it worked for them and not me?

I lay there stewing until my friend’s father came and checked me over. I was helped to my feet and then I gingerly hobbled back into the house like a geriatric patient who had taken leave of her senses. I was sat down on the sofa and scolded. I didn’t much hear or care because I was still mad about my botched leaf jumping experience and my friend ratting me out. Clearly her family did not know how to make a correct leaf pile. I don’t remember if her parents told my parents (they probably did) I don’t remember if I got scolded some more or not. I do however still recall the feeling of my tailbone hitting the ground. shudder

I never jumped in a pile of leaves again. I didn’t want to be disappointed a second time. I don’t think I could take it. I still make leaf angels and play, but no jumping. I still see it in movies and read about it in stories, friends’ children tell me how they jumped in piles but I tend to be skeptical. Maybe for them it works. Maybe that pile so long ago really was defective. Maybe I wanted it so bad I sucked the magic right out of it, or maybe you just shouldn’t jump off a porch railing? Who knows? Leaves are still magical. They are still beautiful and I can still enjoy them all autumn long.

What do you like best about leaves?

Disclaimer: Please do not jump off of porch railings into piles of leaves. I do the dangerous stuff so you don't have to. 

Credit: These are my friends children playing in leaves. This photo is what inspired today's thought. 

October Thought Day 17: Make Time for the Wonder

I feel like I haven’t adequately been describing October and the awe it fills me with. Sure I’ve talked about the scary stuff and some of the beauty, but it’s the little things that take my breath away.

A few days ago I drove behind a car on a leaf strewn road. No big thing this time of year, that particular scenario can be almost anywhere; but I almost stopped in the road from the beauty of it. The sun was hitting the golden leaves juuuuust right and they glowed and were downright dazzling. As the car passed over them they were whipped into the air in a frenzy, blowing hither and thither and getting caught in the swirls of exhaust. They were dancing and I was the lucky spectator. It was a right time, right place moment and I wanted to pull over and park and watch other motorists stir up the leaves. And the sound the leaves made as they danced; it was a crackle and whisper at the same time.

But it isn’t just the leaves that hold my attention; the moon has been especially wonderful this month. Most nights it is surrounded by this lazy hazy glow. It looks like it has a gauze web pulled over itself like a shawl, perhaps to ward off the nightly chill. A few nights ago it was big and full and beautiful, a lush celestial temptress. A handful of nights it has taken on this wonderful orange tinge which is my favorite kind of moon. I’m sure there is some sort of scientific explanation and name for this phenomenon, but I call it an October moon. Last night was the Hunter’s Moon and that simply meant that the gorgeous orb was bigger and brighter than normal. I laid out on the concrete with my blanket and just stared. The stars twinkled like diamonds in the velvet black expanse of sky and the weather was perfect.  

Even the weather is cooperating this year. Today the sky was overcast yet still sunny and it looked cold but felt lovely. There was a soft autumnal breeze gently riffling the air and the temperature was like a warm bath. It was perfect and if I could bottle it up and keep it in a jar I would do it in a heartbeat. Imagine being able to do something like that, having a mason jar that held inside it a perfect October day. You could twist the lid and close your eyes and be transported to the most wonderful feeling. I suppose it’s a good thing that we can’t bottle Octobers, it makes those special moments all the more precious when we do stumble upon them.

So, your challenge for today is to find an October moment in the hustle and bustle of a busy Monday. Breathe it in and experience the wonder. You won’t be sorry.

October Thought Day 4: Leaf on the Wind, Watch How I Fly

What would it be like to be a leaf? Our talk yesterday got me thinking about that particular question. If anything can top the pumpkin spiciness of October it is leaves. If pumpkins are the mascot of the month, then leaves are the state flower. There is nothing quite like the fashion show that is fall foliage. October leaves get downright flirty. Those saucy oranges, bronzed yellows and flirty reds. It never ceases to amaze and humble me that something which is dying can produce so much beauty. I think all fall trees are really phoenixes in disguise. One day they are green and gorgeous, the next they are on fire with the last embers of life. It really is magical.

Now I could get all scientific and explain how the plant process works and what is really going on chemically behind the scenes, but this is October and as the meme says, "ain't no one got time for that." Instead I will give you my theory on why the leaves look the way they do, and the answer is, they go to leaf school of course. But first, did you know that squirrels are the storks of the plant world? They find the infant leaflings, tuck them away in special knapsacks and then deposit them into special chutes in the tree trunks. From there, the leaflings are taken to nurseries tucked deep in the ground, and they are tended to by the gnomes that live in fairy gardens.

Leaves grow at a fast rate compared to humans, and a few weeks are the same as a year to them. Once the leaflings are old enough to sip dew on their own, they are promoted to leaf school which is held in the trunk of the tree. Each grade level takes them higher up until they reach the branches their senior year. In leaf school the leaflings learn how to unfurl, how to catch the best breeze, and how to detach when the time comes. They learn martial arts leaf style (called crinkle and snap) so that they can protect themselves from predators. They do leaf yoga, leaf mime and begin to talk with their host tree. And yes, there is leaf internet.

But the most important part of leaf school is color communication. A leafs whole life is dedicated to the dazzling dance it will perform in its final days. Color communication intensifies in the senior year of leaf school. The soon to be graduates train day and night doing color drills and pattern sequencing. Not every leaf masters this skill and some stay green and drop out before their song ever begins.

Color communication is the leaf's way of communicating to the outside world exactly what kind of life the leaf has lead. It's dreams and goals, it's fears and frustrations. It is the leafs commentary on literature, love and the world around it. It is to work in harmony with its fellow leaves when the time comes, but at the same time it is to present itself as an individual work of art. A symphony of color with solos interspersed.

Once color communication is mastered, it is time to graduate and move to the world outside. The leaflings are promoted to bud status and are wished well by the tree staff before taking their places at their assigned tubes. The excited buds are ready to burst forth into the spring air and begin their new adventure. but first they must wait for the lights inside the tree to go green and then out they pop.

In the outside world they unfurl like they are taught and soak up the suns rays. They sing to each other and their tune is carried on the breeze through the different levels of the tree. Some leaves act as scouts and detach from the tree early on. Others take their time opening even though they get the green light. But through the spring and summer, they all practice their melodies and color communication. They live, they shade, they observe, and they grow. They communicate with other leaves on other trees and share stories and observances from many miles away.

But soon the summer breezes take on a cold tinge and the matured leaves know that their final performance is coming. They talk amongst themselves and coordinate when they will begin to turn. While the leaves are more concerned with communicating their legacy, the trees are more interested in seeing whose color song will be the best. Trees are really vain creatures and keep track throughout the years as to who has more tourists, picture opportunities and photo spreads.

The day arrives and the leaves burst forth in blazing multicolored glory. A true feast for the senses. The leaves sing to all who care to listen and after a while they one by one start to fall silent. The next time you look at an autumn tree, really stop to look at the leaves. The last ones remaining on the limbs have the most to say. They have the greatest stamina and are carrying out the last notes of fall before the frost comes to trace its patterns on the world and make ready for winter.

The leaves fall or are picked off. But they do not die. A leaf never dies, it merely changes it's tune. Some may fall to the ground and decompose taking up the song of the earth. Others may fall into waters and liquefy, forever to become part of the song of the seas and rivers. Still others may end up pressed between pages or kept as display. Those fortunate few get to keep observing and continuing the song they started with. You see, there is more to leaves than you originally thought. All you have to do is listen.

Day 3: The Life of Leaf

You know that song that goes "listen to the rhythm of the falling rain," today, that song made me think of fall leaves. The crunch of them underfoot. The rustle of their dry bodies in a breeze. The way they hypnotize as they float and swirl in the air. By now I usually have picked out my favorite fall tree and buried myself in a leaf pile. But the trees are reluctant to give up their leafy bits this year. So far I have seen hardly any color other than green and there has been nothing to crunch. I am a bit disappointed.

But it got me thinking, do leaves spend as much time thinking about us as we do them? Yes, yes, I know, leaves don't throw tea parties and they aren't sentient, but just go with me here. This is what watching years of Disney films does to ones imaginations. What must it be like to be a leaf? Do they have a silent commentary on our fashion choices as the Spring and Summer progress? Do they wait with bated leafy breath to see us in our Easter finery or to see just how much skin we will bare in the summer? Do they laugh when the skin of summer suddenly disappears with the mufflers, jeans, coats and galoshes of fall? Which season is their favorite?

Imagine. You spend all winter curled up for a nice nap inside your tree. You hear the wind howl and feel the beat of the rain on the trunk, but you are nice and warm. You dream of emerging out into the world and seeing your shape for the first time, seeing the world for the first time. Then one day the warmth of spring begins to thaw your woody host and suddenly you feel jittery in a way that you haven't ever felt before. You wake up from  your long winter nap and push your way out into the light. You unfurl and drink in that warm golden sunshine. You turn your face up to the heavens and work on establishing your green leafy tan. You feel rain for the first time and twist and turn your veins to watch the water run off. You rustle and laugh when a summer breeze tickles you. You watch with rapt attention as a parade of insects use you as either a superhighway or buffet. You sing lullabies into the wind.

All too soon your days start to get colder and you plan your last hurrah. What color will you be? Where will you fly off too to spend your final days? When the time comes you burst forth into a beautiful riot of color. You tell the story of your life in deep ochre's and vermillion. Bright goldenrod or scarlet. Each of your leafy compatriots is different and chooses its own color pallet. You ooh and ahh over the new sights and together you make your tree host look like it is on fire. The last celebration of your leafy life.

Then one day a breeze detaches you from your tree and you float. You are carried past the corner shops that you waved at all year and down the road. You always wondered where it went. You twist and twirl in the eddies and fly higher than you have ever known. If you are a very lucky leaf, you settle down in a yard where someone is collecting a leaf bouquet. You land on a soft carpet of lawn and are scooped up again and brought into a house. You meet other leaves from distant areas. You talk of your experiences and comment on each others colors. You are placed in a jar with a ribbon and get to experience life indoors for a while. You watch morning routines and after dinner relaxation. You are warm again and lazily dream about what it felt like to be outside.

Before you start to get overly brittle and crack, a woman selects you and puts you in-between some sheets of plastic and seals you into them. You are kept in a book and taken out every now and then as a reminder of that special fall. You are not as active as you used to be and sometimes you miss the feel of wind and the smell of autumn spices, but you are happy. You are an eternal October leaf and life couldn't get much better.

This is my next challenge to you. When the leaves finally change, go and find a beautiful tree to sit under. Talk to the leaves or at least listen to what they have to say. Lay under the tree and watch as the leaves fall all around you. Close your eyes and listen to them rustle above you and crunch below you. Play in a leaf pile. Make a leaf bouquet. Press some into a book as a reminder. Above all, take time to stop and enjoy the vibrant display that is going on just for you. You won't be disappointed.

Day 9: Lovely, Lovely Leaves

Let me first say, "IT TOOK YOU (mother nature) LONG ENOUGH." Whew, glad I got that out of my system. I have been waiting for October for months. I have been waiting semi patiently for all the delights that come with this fabulous month. I twiddled my thumbs and waited for the corn maze. (I may or may not have constructed a practice maze in the shop to pass the time). I jiggled my legs in restless anticipation waiting for pumpkin spice lattes. I paced and fretted over the remaining time left until fall décor hit the stores. And I overloaded my bookshelves with other tomes trying to distract myself from reading prepurchased October themed books (that sickness is just as bad as my magazine purchasing, but we won't go into that here). But the thing that really drove me nuts, was waiting for the leaves to turn. Here it is 9 days into October and FINALLY I see some progress.

Last year the trees had the good sense to start putting on their show in August. Not this year. This year they made me wait......and wait....and wait some more. It was getting to the point where I was about to go out and start spray painting trees just to see some color. But last night, I noticed it. Overnight the shiny greens had been replaced with gold and crimson. If I hadn't been driving at the time, I would have done a happy little dance right there. As it was I let out WHOOP and shimmied a little in my seat.

I LOVE leaves in the fall. They are spectacular. To be fair, I really love trees, but when they turn, ooooh, it makes my little October loving heart go pitter patter, or rather crinkle crackle. One day I hope to be able to drive around New England while the leaves change. Even better, I hope to be in a horse drawn carriage, sipping cider and looking at the leaves. Wouldn't that be fantastic.
Having completed many, many science courses in my long educational career, I know that the turning of the leaves mean that in reality they are dying. But what a way to go out. I hope to live my life that way. Shiny and green for the majority of my life, then on the way out, a riot of color and vibrancy that all can appreciate.

There is a movie that perfectly describes how I see fall leaves. It is called Pleasantville and in it, the world is all in black and white. There is no color at all. One of the characters happens to be out for a stroll one evening and chances to walk past a tree. As he looks at it, the tree suddenly BURSTS into flame. But it isn't black and white flame, it is flame in color. Seeing that fire, against a black and white world is amazing and that is how I see fall leaves. A brilliant splash of color against the drabness of everyday life.

As one of my October pins says, "I love the leaves. I love the air. I love the rustling sounds everywhere." Even the crinkly noise that the leaves makes is music. Crackly leaves, a cricket choir, a froggy chorus and the hoot of an owl....best. symphony. ever!

Leaves are magical. They must be, because they have so many different uses. They can make forts, art projects, clothing, table décor, regular décor, pressed patterns, and the list goes on. If I ever get married, I want fall leaves scattered instead of rose petals and a leaf bouquet instead of flowers.  Dying leaves hold so much possibility. Their life may be coming to an end, but look at all they still have to offer.

And then there are the leaf piles. Raking leaves is the best job ever, especially if you have a leaf blower. (power tools and October fun, I get thrill giggles just thinking about it) You can rake them up, then frolic in them, then rake them up and repeat to your hearts content. You can make leaf angels in them, or a pillow. Just don't jump into leaf piles from anything higher than your legs can spring you. While they may look bouncy and full of cushioning, they are not. Trust me. I learn these things so you don't have to.

Yes, October leaves thrill me and I am not ashamed to say it. Just another wonderful October gift.

Day 2: Breathe Deep

My first day of October was fantastic. Not the most fantastic October day ever mind you, but it certainly was up there. I had a smorgasbord of October fun and didn't want it to end. Sun dappled drive through an autumnal countryside...check. First pumpkin spice latte of the month...check. Surprise treat that only October can bring...check. Decorations up and fabulous...check. Getting to revel in the first new day...super check!
But what really stood out to me, was the smells. No matter what time it was, no matter what I was doing, I was surrounded by October aromas. Each season/month has a scent or scents that readily identify it. But I think October has an embarrassment of riches in the olfactory department. Don't believe me, just think about it. February smells like chocolate and roses. March like a brewery, newness and green things. July smells like fireworks, May like flowers and December like pine. This year Yankee Candle has gotten in on the scent craze and released November smelling theme candles. There is Sweet Potato Pie, Cranberry Sauce and Turkey & Stuffing. Personally, I would not buy a candle that smelled like turkey, but that is just me.

In an abstract way, October smells like magic and excitement. There is this sense of wonder and adventure that permeates the days. Those feelings insinuate themselves into the everyday smells and makes them sharper and more lively.

I woke up this morning to the clean, crisp smell of an autumn day. The air was dry and had a snap to it. It is like the air is cleaner in October. You breathe it in and just feel better. More alive. It smells like moisture and midnight. While out running early morning errands I drove by machines freshly turning over the earth. There was this raw, wet, loamy smell that wafted into my truck. The rich aroma of soil. I almost stopped so that I could scoop some up and bottle to keep for later. Now there is a candle I would buy, wet earth. And speaking of wet, have you ever smelled a pile of wet leaves right after the rain? It is almost that same loamy smell and I just can't get enough.

But maybe you are not a fan of the wet earth and soggy leaf smell. October has other snifftastic smells in store. A lot of really good October smells come from baked goods or cooking. The weather turns cooler and out come the recipes for comfort foods. Smells of cinnamon, nutmeg, caramel and honey can delight the senses. There is the sharp smell of licorice and the homey smell of cinnamon rolls or breads baking. There is spiced everything. Spiced chai, spiced cider, spiced air fresheners. October in general has this deep and somewhat tangible aroma, but it also has its lite moments. There is the smell of freshly washed blankets, or the wafting smell of wood smoke.

Like I said before, October is all about comfort and really breathing life in. The harvest is coming and the world puts out one final aromatic aria before fading into the dullness of winter. So my challenge to you for today, breathe deep. Really stop and take in a lungful of what October has to offer. Then share what you find.

Feelin' a Bit Colorful: OT Day 11

I think that October has the monopoly on color. What's that, you don't believe me. Then let me prove it to you. November has brown. December has red and green. January is all about the silver. February is pink and red. March is green, April is blue. One could say that May has a large color palette with all the new flowers, but mostly I don't associate May with a specific color. It is the Switzerland of the months. June is white. July is red, white and blue. August is a blazing yellow and September is yellow and red.

But October. October has the richest, most vibrant colors one could ever imagine. October is the reason color was thought up in the first place. One could say that Octobers colors are red, purple, orange, yellow and black. But that is like saying ice cream is just ice cream. October doesn't just have red, it has scarlet, crimson, fire engine, cherry, vermillion, maroon, brick and candy apple just to name a few. Of the yellows there are mustards, goldenrods, neon, gold, bronze, amber, maize, blonde, and lemon. Purple makes a grand showing with plum, eggplant/aubergine, indigo, violet, wine, orchid and lavender. Black has coal, midnight, ink, velvet, obsidian, shadow, onyx and jet. And these are just the names I can come up with off the top of my head. I'm sure the people who think of make up names, interior decorators and paint swatch people could list dozens more. (man I want that job, whoops, sorry, got sidetracked there)

But the color I most associate with October is orange. There is tangerine, peach, burnt sienna (thank you Crayola) flame, carrot, ginger, rust and creamsicle. Funny how there are more descriptive names for the other colors, but for orange, not so much. Then it's wierd how the ones it does have are food related. I think it is because October is so hard to pin down and explain. Really, the best things are. You just have to experience it to understand. I can tell you about the orange of a pumpkin sitting in a patch waiting to be chosen. Or a magnificent orange sunset. I can convey the crackle and pop of a bonfire or the crunch of a leaf, but I just can't tell you the color other than orange. But somehow, if you truly love October you will still understand.

October has an embarrassment of color. From the tantalizing foods on display in the farmers market, to the vibrancy in the color palette of a costume. There are colors a plenty in the candy choices and decorations. But the best way to experience October color is in the leaves. To channel my inner SAT prep professor, leaves are to October as snow is to Winter.

Every summer, and sometimes sooner, I find myself looking to the trees trying to find that first tinge of something other than green. Don't get me wrong, I love green. It is tied for my favorite color with blue, but there is something about autumn that makes me want to wish that green away in a hurry.

Leaves are sneaky things. One moment they are green and bright and swaying on the tree. The next they are almost every color of the rainbow and floating gently to the ground on a cool breeze. When October leaves are really in their glory the trees seem like they are on fire. But in a good and beautiful way. The closest I can come to explaining how I see fall trees, is if you watch the movie Pleasantville. Most of the movie is in black and white. But as the characters have awakenings color starts to enter into their world. One character walks by a tree that has been in black and white for the whole show. Suddenly it has burst into flame. The tree is burning brightly but it is night time and it is on fire in a black and white world. The flame is shocking in contrast and beautiful and you can't take your eyes off of it. That is how I see October trees.

In October plants put on their best dresses before they head off to sleep through the winter. If I were any kind of seamstressly inclined, I would attempt to make myself a dress out of fall leaves. Really, it would be better than any Oscar gown. How could it not. Of course I would have to shellac the leaves cuz sitting might be a problem, or bending, cuz they would be all crackly and break. But who cares. Then they would be brightly colored and shiny shellacked leaves. I would make the best dressed list for sure.

It is my fervent wish that one day I will get to drive the roads of New England in the fall and look at the beautiful leaves. What a wonderful thing for an area to be known for. Yes, we have gorgeous leaves. I am so jealous. Just imagine cruising along a deserted back road highway that is nothing but a riot of color as far as the eye can see. Maybe along the way there will be a cider stand and they will be offering cider donuts or candied apples to go with it. Perhaps there will be salted caramels and popcorn balls. Man, I think I should just move to New England and start my own leaf tour business. Imagine having that job. Would you ever get tired of it. Introducing new people to the wonder of the fall beauty around you. I don't think so. I haven't gotten tired of sharing my love of fall leaves with anyone yet and I am at least a quarter of a century old.

October really is breathtaking if you just stop a minute and look. My challenge for today is to go out and find something that represents fall beauty to you. Take a picture. Share it or don't, but just take the time to stop and appreciate.