Friday, November 09, 2007

As fall as we're gonna get in California

Since I grew up back east, I have lots of sensory memories of the fall. The crunchy sound of fallen leaves, the brilliant colors of the trees. I remember jumping into large piles of leaves on the lawn - for some reason I never got hurt doing this, although sometimes a gross wetness in the leaves quickly dispelled the elation of the leap (is that dog poop??? yuck). After all the leaves were raked (blisters on my thumb), then they were taken to the curb and set fire, and the smoke would linger in the air, low to the ground, under the overcast skies. We'd take a trip to the apple orchard and get some freshly pressed cider, ice cold from being outside, not from any refrigerator. The days were very short, and walking home from school became a little scary. Crossing the park, you could hear footsteps coming towards you, but you couldn't quite see who is was until they were right in front of you.

When we planted this tree in our front yard, ten years ago at least, we chose a deciduous magnolia. The guy at the nursery reminded us that we'd have to rake up the leaves every fall (like it was some kind of odd ritual that no one should choose on purpose). I'd rather rake once a year than have to pick up the fallen leaves here and there, all year long. I appreciate that the crunchy brown fallen leaves allow my senses to travel in time and place.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Exactly how much leaf raking did you actually do ?
I seem to remember that was my chore.