Falling leaves

Thanks, Vermont tree leaves, for not being affected by the warming of the globe - looks like this will be a brilliant year for you.

Leaves, you've worked so very hard and done so many things all summer long. You've been steadfast, benevolent, and green as envy, since late spring. You've whistled in the wind, shaded us from the sun, helped spew oxygen into our lungs, and just recently turned all the colors in the rainbow, and looked damn good doing it all. Thanks.

One day I saw a barn cat sitting in the craw of a maple tree nibbling on one of you. On behalf of bugs and birds and animals of all kinds, and extreme health food eaters, I extend to you leaves, thanks, for tasting good.

When calling on nature, over the river and through the woods, on foot, bike, or motorized cycle of some sort, nature sometimes calls, and we reach out to you. Thanks.

Thanks for shielding so many of us from the sight of each other. What did Robert Frost say, something to the effect of "Strong fences make good neighbors?" I say, "A thick wall of leaves makes really good neighbors."

Do kids and adults alike still sometimes iron you between two pieces of wax paper and give you as gifts? I'd like to think so. What's the family Bible without a wax leaf bookmark? Ordinary.

Cheers to you and I guess a thank-you are in order for your ability to match every existing thing. My entire life I've not seen a woods, mountain side, or cityscape to which you clash. I feel there's not a color you carry that doesn't go fabulously well with the white of a northern Vermont white birch. Benjamin Moore, eat you heart out.

Thanks for trying to show me, year after year, in your own way, the path my life is taking. Bud, sprout, mature, age, wither and fall and land dead, and mix into the soil to become fertilizer for your replacement. That's me baby, that's me too. You softly help me understand, if I'm paying attention at all, that I'm no more important than the smallest one of you. Lucky for me and my ego, you are very important.

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