As we fall out of autumn

 The day-lily garden is mulched. When we get a favorable wind, we’ll leaf blow the drive with our electric leaf blower. At least we’re going through the motions of preparing for the changes from falling leaves to falling snowflakes.

In a week or so a crew should arrive to take down the big pine in front of the house. We’ll miss it but it got hit with something this past summer that killed it. Several other pines in the neighborhood have also been stripped of their needles and died but they’re not in a position to land on the house or garage if they fall. Meanwhile, we’re looking ahead to a week of mostly seasonable temperatures and peak leaf fall.

leaf fall, Upper St. Croix River, October

Photo by J. Harrington

This is the time of year when falling leaves also get blown onto area rivers, where they become habitat to and sustenance for aquatic macroinvertebrates. Over the winter I’m going to spend time reviewing the Xerces Society’s guidance on Nesting & Overwintering Habitat For Pollinators & Other Beneficial Insects. Much of our property is wooded and much of it is open fields that have been enjoying benign neglect for at least a decade. To be candid, I’m as motivated by a desire to minimize yard work as I am providing habitat. That said, I’d like to “do it right!” If anyone has suggestions for resources to maintain a “naturalized landscape,” please share in a comment.

UPDATE: LET FALLEN LEAVES LIE

A Short Story of Falling

By Alice Oswald

It is the story of the falling rain

to turn into a leaf and fall again

it is the secret of a summer shower

to steal the light and hide it in a flower

and every flower a tiny tributary

that from the ground flows green and momentary

is one of water's wishes and this tale

hangs in a seed-head smaller than my thumbnail

if only I a passerby could pass

as clear as water through a plume of grass

to find the sunlight hidden at the tip

turning to seed a kind of lifting rain drip

then I might know like water how to balance

the weight of hope against the light of patience

water which is so raw so earthy-strong

and lurks in cast-iron tanks and leaks along

drawn under gravity towards my tongue

to cool and fill the pipe-work of this song

which is the story of the falling rain

that rises to the light and falls again

********************************************
Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.