Leaves

I watched Little Squirt today, playing in the leaf pile in our front yard. He jumped into the heap, rolling around and scattering the leaves with pure glee, uttering squeals of delight. The sight of his joy took me back. Way back to my childhood.

I have a distinct memory that I hold dear in my heart, of coming home from school one autumn afternoon. Looking out the kitchen window, I was ecstatic to see that all the leaves in my backyard had been raked into a big pile. I excitedly asked my mother if I could jump in them. “Okay,” she admonished, “But I just spent a few hours raking, so if you mess up the pile, you’ll have to rake it again.”

Joyfully I changed out of my school dress into play clothes and ran outside to the backyard. It was a beautiful, brilliant October day in the Chicago suburbs. The air was crisp and cool but sunny. Being a very compliant child, I was wary of disobeying my mother and messing up the pile. Trying carefully not to disrupt one leaf, I sunk down into that pile; ginormous to a my petite 7-year-old body. It felt like a soft, plushy bed. I lay there for a while on my back, just staring upwards.

The color of the sky was radiant; a peacock blue with streaks of wispy clouds. I could see the boughs of the maple tree overhead, and if I squeezed my eyes half-shut, the branches looked like fingers reaching toward heaven. I watched the maple branches reaching, swaying in the breeze; then closed my eyes and sunk further into the crunch of red and golden leaves. Now buried entirely, I breathed deeply their earthy scent; their perfume intoxicating me. A fresh, clean odor. I heard a squirrel scolding nearby, and then the distinct call of a cardinal. Scolding, twittering. Scolding, twittering. A cacophony of wildlife. I felt enveloped in a peaceful aura. Warm and safe. Connected to the earth, somehow.

I lay there for a long, long time, deeply ministered to by a symphony for the senses. I felt God saying, “I made this all for you.” Life was beautiful at that moment. Beautiful and rich and nurturing my soul. An intimate moment between me and nature and God. I felt truly alive.

As I watched my son today, I wondered. At the age I am now, could I lie in a leaf pile and experience the same kind of magic as on that autumn day of my childhood? Or is my heart now too cluttered with the stuff of life that block the senses from experiencing nature in all its glory? From feeling joy with the same abandonment as does my 5-year-old? I don’t know. But tomorrow I will find out. Tomorrow, weather permitting, I will rake up a big pile of leaves, muster up my inner child, and lie in the leaves. And I’ll let you know.