Leaves. They’re everywhere. Floating in the air, blowing along the roadway, scattering from trees like disoriented flocks of large, angry birds. They fill our driveway and our two lots, so many that a thousand large leaf bags would contain only a fraction of what’s there.
I’ve used my leaf-blower twice to make way for foot traffic on the front porch, blowing leaves into the woods beside and behind my house. It seems an unending battle, but one I welcome; I like the leaves. They will, eventually, become part of the soil, feeding beasts that need such stuff; nutrients born of decomposition and decay.
