Raking

[rejectomorph]

Raking wet leaves from the lawn on a foggy day, I notice their different scents; the oak leaves, sharp and woody, the walnut leaves, tangy and slightly sweet. Then there is the scent of the grass, bruised by the passing rake, and the smell of fog in the chill air. And, under it all, the rich aroma of damp earth, filled with anticipation for the distant promise of spring.

Comments

once again...

[jaarronn.livejournal.com]

you've eloquently and evocatively captured what too few seem to notice....So many people see fallen leaves only as another chore to be dealt with; preferably by hired landscapers with their noisy and foul smelling blowers. What chance then that these things be noticed? The loss not only deprives the delight to our senses, but, at least in part signifies our increasing disconnection with the things to which all life is inextrictably bound...Speaking for myself, that frightens me.

BTW, speaking of connections, I quoted one of your earlier entries and thought I'd mention it in case t you miss it - http://www.livejournal.com/talkread.bml?itemid=17888233&view=23089743#t23089743