Our home back in Colorado was in a new development. Trees were mere suggestions of suggestions. Twigs planted and staked. The largest botanical item on our property was a threesome of golden elderberry bushes. We planted them as sticks into the ground four or five years ago and when we left they were nearly as tall as I am. That’s what happens when you plant a shrub that grows 18 inches a year. Loved those bushes. Miss them.
But nothing on our property produced enough material for a hearty leaf jumpin’. A few years ago the boys raked just barely enough together to have a couple leaps each. Took thirty minutes.
My, how times have changed.
This doesn’t do the yard justice. The sheer volume of deceased greenery. It has given our sons a visual reference for infinity.
These weren’t even from our trees. Our three ginormous trees have just barely begun to drop. Oh, and this picture was taken two weeks ago. We’ve raked twice since then. And it bears repeating…our three ginormous trees have just barely begun to drop.
Are the boys jumping? Oh yes, there is much jumping. And excited, albeit temporary, raking for the aforementioned jump.
The adults do not jump. The adults are tired of raking (and in all fairness, it is Tom doing the majority of it). The female adult is tired of paying for paper bags and leaf bag stickers so the nice trash people pick up the leaves on Fridays.
And there is no need to remind me what falls after leaves. I am fully aware of the next step in the seasons process. However, when the white stuff does fall from the sky, I am done with the leaves. For there is only one way to describe them once the flakes begin to fly.