Leaf it To Me

 
Oak Leaf - Oil on Panel - 24" x 24" - ©copyright 2010, Timothy Jones

 

A Tale of Applied Distributism

 

A few weeks ago, our kind neighbor across the street saw me out raking leaves and offered the use of his riding mower and trailer. I thanked him and said that I was nearly finished for the day, anyway, but I'd sure think about it, and that was true. I never have gone to ask him for it, though. We in the nation of Squirrelandia are an independent breed.

I have thought about his offer. The entire sovereign nation of Squirrelandia (all 2 acres) is covered with or surrounded by tall oaks. One may be tempted to think of an oak leaf as insubstantial, but when one begins moving them by the thousands, one sees this is not true. They have weight and take up space, and this, well... matters. They are also tough, as tough as the trees from which they fall. An oak leaf, undisturbed on the ground will be there the next spring. In my experience, they take a couple of years to break down.

I like our oak leaves. If it were only a matter of aesthetics, I would leave them as they are. There is something soothing and appealing about leaf-covered ground. But in practice, letting them lie means letting them kill what little grass still grows amongst our moss, rocks and weeds. This would lead to erosion (we live on a hill) and would also somewhat justifiably irritate the neighbors. So, every year leaf disposal becomes a duty that can't be altogether ignored. I let a few remain. I like the look. It says "country". I want to clear them away, but not with the cold efficiency of a hireling at Versailles.

But back to my neighbor. I have been reluctant to take him up on his offer because, for one thing, my leaves are my duty and not his, and if he let me borrow his mower, he would also insist on helping (he's a terrific neighbor) and he's of retirement age, with his own house and grounds to worry about. I'd feel a little like a freeloader allowing him to work up a sweat over my leaves. Incidentally, the reason we don't have a riding mower with a big grass catching trailer is that the investment seems a bit extravagant for our needs. Because we're heavily shaded, we need hardly mow much at all. I'm of (partly) Scotch descent and I'll be blowed if I'm going to drop a grand on a machine to suck up leaves one day a year. It would be unjust to let the fact that I won't buy a riding mower become my neighbor's problem.

But, truthfully, there is another reason for refusing his invitation to bring my leaf removal system up to post WWII standards. I have learned to enjoy it. Yes, I do somewhat relish grumbling about it every year to my family, and go through the motions of a debate with myself about finally geting a riding  mower, but I won't until I have to. The ritual has become a Zen thing to me. I begin, actually, to look forward to it in a weird way. I don't want a machine to do it. These are my leaves. In the words of General George S. Patton, "I love it. God help me, I do love it so.".

This brings me to a kind of Philosophy of Work that I have been ruminating upon as I rake, but that will be for another post. This one is already, well, long in the leaf.

Comments

[John Kasaian]

One of the finest things in the world is to walk through woods on a carpet of oak leaves on a brisk morning!