Ballad of the Falling Leaves
“The falling leaves drift by the window. The autumn leaves of red and gold”…
”The Autumn Leaves” – 1945 – Joseph Kosma, Johnny Mercer
As I write this, I’m sitting near a large sliding glass door, leading to our backyard.
Out there, I don’t see any Democrats, or Republicans, or gun violence, or wars, or inflation.
I just see leaves. Lots of leaves dangling from limbs that are about to free them from their months-long resting places.
It’s all part of an annual ritual that commences every spring.
Leaves provide shade in the summer, then brilliant, suitable-for-framing tapestries each autumn.
My Facebook feed is full of snapshots from people who can’t resist chronicling the vivid colors they find on their travels at this time of year.
When I lived out west, I often spoke to folks from the nation’s northeast, who’d moved to Phoenix. Many of them lamented the fact that they missed the “change of seasons” in Arizona.
(I didn’t. But they did. Year-round sunshine never really bothered me.)
Back to the issue at hand. Leaves!
“And soon I’ll hear old winter’s song. But I’ll miss you most of all my darling – when autumn leaves start to fall.”
I was so sure that Western Pennsylvania is among the most spectacular fall foliage locations in the country, that I took to Google to support my thesis.
Well, according to U.S. News & World Report, I was mistaken.
Back in July, that venerable old publication (90 years old) put out the list of the “27 Top Places to See Fall Foliage in 2023.”
First, who thinks 27 is a nice round number? Why didn’t they simply list the top 10, or 15, or 20?
Curiously, the rainy Mount Rainier National Park in the state of Washington is on the list; Anchorage, Alaska gets a mention; North Lake Tahoe in California and Nevada made the list; and even New York City (Central Park) merited a paragraph of its own. But not a single mention of, say, the Laurel Highlands of Pennsylvania.
Who do those people think they are?
Our red and golden leaves are world-class. They definitely should be honored.
That is until they fall onto the ground.
Then they get gummy and slippery under our feet – and beg to be removed from sight.
Curiously, if you don’t remove them from your lawn, your driveway, or your gutters – many of them somehow disappear over time, anyway.
The thought of that, led me to rush back to Google and ask, “Where do leaves go?”
NOTE: Google will try to answer any question. No matter how dumb it is.
I’m sure Mr. Google said, “That’s dumb. But I’ll try to answer it anyway.”
On the list of potential answers to that question, I found an article on Family Handyman.com titled “What Happens to Leaves During the Winter?”
Bingo!
That’s an answer to one of those enduring questions like, “What did that girl and Billy Joe McAllister throw off that Tallahatchie Bridge in that song ‘The Ode to Billie Joe’?”
Or, who was Carly Simon singing about in her legendary song “You’re So Vain?”
I’ve often thought it was me. Even though I’d never met Ms. Simon.
Back to leaves.
That online article at Family Handyman posits some interesting information about fallen leaves.
“For some, a lawn carpeted with leaves is a perennial hassle of autumn. For others, those leaves offer a windfall of free mulch and fertilizer. Whether you like them or not, fallen leaves play an important role in your yard’s life cycle,” says the article in part.
So for now, while I’m witnessing the natural transformation from autumn to winter, I’m comfortable being a spectator to the colorful display of nature’s paintbrush.
Let me try that again.
Our entire yard is covered with a thick blanket of leaves.
I don’t know what we’re going to do with them.
We can’t eat them. We can’t burn them for kindling.
The best we can do is use them for mulch.
Good enough for me.
Al Owens is a multi-Emmy Award winner, former reporter, and anchor for Entertainment Tonight, and 50-year TV news and newspaper veteran. E-mail him at freedoms@bellatlantic.net.