reflections on the falling leaves

i do love the wind. i'm sitting at my desk, watching the poplars and maples release their yellowed and brown leaves to the wind, each day less cover hiding brown bark bodies. the leaves are gorgeous, i do appreciate their suble and dramatic colors, the way they know how to float, tumble, or sail away from the tree branch, the only home they've ever known, to land somewhere unknown.

two days ago, the wind here was gusting, a sky of leaves, flying, floating. sailing, tossing about. standing in my yard, i bent over a pile of these gathering leaves, mainly big leaves from our giant maple tree, now as tall as the house. sadness washed over me as i picked up one leaf after another, noticing how each one was so unique, different from all the others, but bunched up one on top of the other, i tended to overlook them, see them only as a pile now. each autumn heralds pensive days, weeks, or months where beautiful and poignant feelings course through veins of meloncholy. I've come to expect this visitor, although there is little i can do to prepare for her. she just stays until she moves on, she has a room here, and will come and go as she pleases, heaven knows, even after all these years, i can't know her schedule.

anyway, back to fallen leaves. looking at the pile i had gathered in my hands, it occured to me that i needed to acknowledge them in some way, to say 'i see you - i saw you when you were a bud on the branch, when you grew into the beautiful vibrant green leaf that shown the greenest green in the sunlight, and i see you now, making your grand exit into the world of soil and stones. I had this ridiculous compulsion to pick up every leaf i could find and take a picture of it. when i look at something through my camera lense, i focus, i see what is there in my lense. i felt the leaves deserved that respect, to be seen. you may read this and think "she is being ridiculous, just silly", but these thoughts and feeling are compelling and true. of course i could never photograph them all, and i would certainly get bored of doing it after a very short while to be honest, but i did arrange my handful of leaves, one by one, on the deck, and took each of their photographs. i intend to do a piece with this collection of photos and thoughts, probably in my private journal one day. it's strange how these small acts feel so important sometimes, the deeper meaning wanting to be known, experienced.