October Trees

For many October is a time of dread. The days grow shorter and the shadows longer. For me, the autumn represents the beginning of a metamorphosis. A change that portends new possibilities and adventures. The changing colors of the trees create a surreal landscape in which walks become idyllic wanderings, the smell of leaves decaying is reminiscent of a long ago Saturday afternoons, raking leaves and playing games that required us to dive into the piles we made.

One fall, we raked leaves and put them into plastic bags. Eventually we would take them to a city park where the city would dispose of them somehow. This particular year we devised a game in which the bags of leaves were substitute, imaginary players in a game of football. The bags were fellow teammates or obstacles to avoid during a running play. Some bags, strategically distributed around the backyard acted as receivers for our errant passes. Of course, the game devolved into one in which we would throw each other the ball so that the receiver had to dive across multiple bags to catch the ball. As we landed on the bags, great geysers of leaves would fly high into the air. It was fun, and the smell of wet decaying leaves today remind me of that invented game. Not too long after the game began, it became one of diving into the bags, resulting in torn bags and leaves once again strewn across the backyard. My father was there to sternly remind us that we were wasting trash bags and with that we needed to recommence our labor.

Gold finch

The end of October brings more birds to our feeders, as the trees lose their foliage. My memories of recklessly and aimlessly diving into piles and bags of leaves is revived each time I walk and marvel at the changing colors of October. But these days I do walk, not dive…and I think of one of my favorite poems: “Being But Men” by Dylan Thomas. Children have imagination, energy, adventures and insight. “Being but men, we walked into the trees.”