He’s so efficient with the autumn mowing, I want to run out in front of him and his mower, and wave my arms and yell, “Stop! Stop!”

Not a good idea. He wouldn’t listen anyhow. I’ve tried some things along that line before.

Not that I dislike efficiency. It’s just that I love those fallen leaves.

I love to amble through them, kicking them about with a mighty rustle, reminding myself of walks home from school under maples that lined my hometown street. I like to glance up from the kitchen sink and see through the window all their colors littering the ground beneath the crab tree, blessing me with the awareness, even when I’m stuck inside, that the heat and hurry of summer has ended and my favorite season is unfolding. I even like to think of raking them, the way I enjoyed doing long ago, with dad and brother, to make a huge pile into which we all would leap, laughing.

But he’s mowing-efficient; so that window view is fleeting. Ah well (sigh), the lawn is tidy when he’s finished, another loose end tied up before winter, and for that I’m grateful. And I’m not much into jumping in leaf piles lately…

But maybe, I think, if the leaf piles were there in the backyard to leap in, maybe, just maybe I would!