Why would a notorious lazy man feel such a joy in his heart watching a phenomenon that entails work?
Hm, does it entail work? Per se?Trashed
When I fell to the ground
you walked all over me
even though I shaded you…
was it just yesterday?
Now you are going to rake me,
toss me in a bag
as if I'm some kind of monster
you need to eject.
Why don't you leave me be;
by springtime you will
never even know I was here .
What Lady Janice puts in poetry, Andrew Scott puts prosaic: [...] some people not too far away from me seem to regard every fallen leaf as a disgraceful piece of filth, to be tidied away as soon as possible. They are out every morning, frantically scooping up all the leaves and casting disapproving glances at the coppery golden carpet adorning my lawn.
And right both they are. Some people would overdo, acting like maniacs for housework or, in this case, maniacs for raking leaves.
Well, I am raking leaves, too ... and give them another job:
Seanhenge's chief-protectors of shrubs, trees, roses etc.; and after they have done a great job during winter, they get their deserved long rest, long enough to convert into young, strong and fresh humus.
And thus the cycle of life goes on ...
Fantastic post and photos.:) Enchanting poetical link. Amusing connection with a very convincing, think-alike, act-alike leaves lover. Praise be laziness! :)
ReplyDeleteLeaves trashing and burning is a crime. Totally agree with the accumulation of leaves on the ground. In my youth, with friends, we would roll, or hide with delight, in the deep autumnal carpet. For years, I've been inserting colourful leaves between pages of my books and dictionaries. A leaf is a splendid jewel. Each one totally unique, even from the same tree.
I didn't know they could enrich a land with more than beauty. So glad to learn of their protective role at Seanhenge. I envy and admire you, Sean. Please, wave to your falling leaves for me.:)
Thanks for the citation Sean. I am honoured indeed. And your pictures and sentiments are great.
ReplyDeleteCherry leaves take such a long time to compost. Now the city picks ours up and does the job for us, using the results in the parks around.
ReplyDeleteLovely photos Sean and I miss Janice. Wonder when she will be back.
Ah there is nothing like a dressing of leaf mould. A great mulch!
ReplyDeleteI think I still have some floating around my garden from last year's fall ;-)
ReplyDeleteClaudia,
ReplyDeletenothing left wave to, Mylady.
After some windy, almost stormy days the trees are bare-branched.
The child in the Sean even nowadays sometimes is enciting hime to wallow in in deep autumnal carpets.
Andrew,
Thank you. It was such lovely a surprise to read almost exactly what I do think, but could not put as nicely.
jmb,
quite, but we have two composters, so they have two years time.
As for your wondering: So I do. Probably, after her move the poetess indulged herself in an artistic hibernation?
Jams,
it's, indeed, the best you can do to your shrubs, trees and bushes.
CherryPie,
now, that's what I call economic gardening. :)
Fine photos, lovely links, and a sensible sentiment. Thank you Sean!
ReplyDeleteThe deep compulsion to have everything completely tidy is a strange one, and is especially awkward when one projects it onto a garden or other outdoor space. I think to myself: Let the leaves be! Or at least put them to good use, be it in a compost heap or a book. They are attractive to see, and fun to keep, walk in, or play with. Besides, nature knows what it's doing.
There is an American poet I like whose parents — when he was young — made him cut the front lawn with a nail scissors, so that the blade of grass would be of uniform length and pristine presentation. For the sake of the neighbours, of course. And we call ourselves sapiens...
Stan,
ReplyDeletesorry about once again replying late.
As so often we do agree. Yes, very probably nature knows best, while (wo)man, although part of nature - and thus of Omnium :) - don't. To call oneself sapiens is a lovely carpet to sweep one's deficiencies under, isn't it.
The parents of your friends did not seriously ask him to cut the front lawn with a pair of nail scissors, did they? This was but a tiny joke, hm?
[Inner voice] Why would you ask when I already answered your question?
No joke, Sean — it wasn't my friend but rather the poet Charles Bukowski. He wrote (unless I misremember) that his parents, being recent immigrants to the U.S., had acute anxiety about their social status. Hence the apparent need for an immaculate lawn!
ReplyDelete