As I basked in the rays of an Indian summer noon, I chuckled like some outsize grasshopper to see the poor soul approach a neighbor’s sprawling lot armed with one of the “new and improved” oversized plastic rakes.
The 20 something, clearly employed by the property owners to keep the various oaks, maples and chestnuts in line, did not have a smile on his face as he surveyed the 1/2 acre of leaves covering the lawns. He took a couple of half hearted swings and as suddenly as he had appeared he was gone.
Having committed years ago to a non-intervention pact, “leaving” well enough alone, as it were, the apparent victory of trees suited me just fine, and I thought I caught a faint echo of a laugh as a breeze floated about the now almost bare crowns of the lot’s denizens.
But we were too quick to savor the victory, because the clever boy had come back with (wait for it..) a “leaf blower”. Armed with this screeching fulminous abomination the young man proceeded to commence his huffing and puffing.
I hailed the fellow and having gotten his attention I suggested at the top of my lungs (he did not seem to think killing the blower was in any appropriate to conversation) suggested that a) the trees would be gratified for the winter cover the leaves offered and b) that judicious use of a mower could both mulch leaves allowing them to remain ostensible hidden in the lawn and satisfy any craving he might have for breathing in benzene.
He gestured with the blower and I judiciously retreated across the street. I was a bit irked but the big chestnut seemed to shrug the shrug of ling suffering, and taking my cue, I retreated to a more contemplative venue.
The magnificent trees still tower over the now bare lot, but they seem somewhat diminished, disheartened with decades of abuse. My heart aches as it is an ill wind indeed that blows no good….