Guest post by my mother, Bobbie Ward
As the sun tops the hill and crowns the fall painted trees in my back yard, I stand still in the rain of gold falling straight to the ground. Heavy with the frost of a sudden drop in temperature, the leaves come down like a continual gentle rain. On this one magical morning, the trees have released their glorious bounty. The leaves come down—not torn from the branches by a wind, or loosed in illness, but as a blessing, an ovation to the earth—the farewell to summer.
Five cherub faces are pressed against the glass leaving slobbery kisses for me to clean later. The children wonder what I’m doing wandering about outside seemingly unmindful of their little necessities. I turn my back to the house briefly. They will have their time to frolic in the leaves, but this moment of solitude and exultation is just to be shared between God and me. I drink in the crisp damp air and feel showered with my own private blessing.
Silence blankets the early morning. The only sound in this radiant wonderland is the gentle plip, plip, plip of the leaves as they come to rest among the heaps of burnished gold, one on another until the ground is carpeted. . . .Ah, but my revelry isn’t to last long. A child has grabbed another’s toy and my time has drawn to a close. With a final uplifting of my hands, I am renewed and I carry the wonder of the morning into the house. I can’t help smiling as I fix hot cereal for the babies and pour milk for the older children. We sing our morning prayer of thanksgiving, “This is the day the Lord hath made. We will rejoice and be glad in it. . .” To which I add, “And may these children know how especially glad I am in this day You’ve made, Lord!”
The early stillness is now gone and a breeze has begun to dry the leaves so that they crunch under our feet. I’ve bundled the baby and snuggled him into the stroller and we all go out. Amid shouts of horray’s and yippee’s, tumbling over one another, each child is finally set free after being detained far too long, with diapering, noses to be blown, jackets to be zippered, and hats and shoes tied.
Raking the leaves is a challenge when the children are so anxious to jump and roll even in the smallest pile! Kid-sized rakes are put to good use as the older children work diligently to make each heap then move to another spot and still another while leaves are being tossed high amid gleeful shouts. “Oh, my, watch out for the rake handle!” “Careful, don’t jump on the others, come over to this pile.” “Sarah, there’s nothing to be afraid of, look how pretty the leaves are.” “Yes, its okay for him to roll there.”
Eventually the piles come together until a cozy cushion invites everyone to run and leap, throwing all caution to the breezes that help scatter the leaves again. Next, the children burrow into the pile, covering each other and crawling about until the leaves are well crushed and the little ones are growing tired.
When the thrill finally wears off, I begin scooping the leaves into trash bags so I can bury them in the garden where they will make good mulch. Working quickly to finish my task before the children start to fuss, I don’t notice Brent bending down with his chubby hands on his knees. “What ya doing?” he asks peering into the sack.
“I’m raking up these leaves so I can put them into this big bag.”
“Oh. . . so you can put them up again next year?”
What a wonderful thought. I laugh and bend down to kiss his cheek and I picture myself flying about hanging leaves on the trees.