The Leaves Of Our Lives

In autumn, I love the way different trees drop their leaves in their own unique way.

It’s like they’ve got their own personality.  But it’s not personality, or even animalality.  I guess it’s treeality.

We’ve got an ash tree that starts getting itchy to shed leaves in late September.  On the other hand, our beautiful red oak in the back holds on to its leaves for dear life.  It has barely dropped a dozen.  At our altitude the aspen leaves don’t do that crazy golden color, but they are still gorgeous.

The crabapple’s leaves turn the most beautiful shade of red then get all craggy and shrunken.  We planted that tree when my grandma died.

The Russian elm, the junkiest tree ever, has had some kind of disease for a while. It drops leaves and small branches almost all summer.  And big branches when it snows.  But it’s now the oldest tree standing on the property.  It shades the coop, the goat shed and our house.  It is sculptural in the winter and if we have the tree trimmer out, it is beautiful in the summer.

The friendly honey locust tree at the front door has teeny tiny leaves that can never be completely raked up.  We track those leaves into the house year round.  I have a love-hate relationship with that tree.

Billions and billions of little leaves…

A couple of the trees are near and dear to my heart.  They’re volunteers and started from nothing, with their tall spindly trunks almost appearing out of thin air one summer.  They seemed so strong and brave I couldn’t bear to chop them down.  Very Excellent Husband Don rationally noted that neither tree was in a good place for a tree to grow, but I had to give both a chance.  I see one every time I back out of the driveway.  It is a little crooked and too close to the street.  I love that tree.

I can trace my life in this house by the trees.  We have lived here for twenty-four years.  We have planted trees, we have chopped down trees.  We have raked leaves into big piles every fall.  Our babies played in those leaves, and they’re grown up.  Now VEH Don hauls those leaves into the barnyard for the animals to enjoy.

Our three munchkins in front of my Mama’s tree. How can they possibly all be in their twenties now?

Nothin’ but cute.

I love the arc of our life.  I love that I can measure that arc by the trees that have stood watch over us, growing with us. I’ve got roots here just like those trees.

We don’t know anything about the arc of life, but we LOVE leaves!  Thank you man with the wheelbarrow!

(Shared at Clever Chicks Hop, Homesteaders Hop, Homestead Barn Hop, Backyard Farming Connection, Tuesdays With A Twist, Down Home Hop, HomeAcre Hop, From The Farm Hop and Farmgirl Friday Hop!)