Treasure That Grows On Trees

Last weekend we had a chance to visit the home of Eric’s good friend.  Sebastian’s family recently moved into a new place in a neighborhood adjacent to ours.  Because the neighborhood is a bit older, the trees are more mature.  Eric’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when we walked into Sebastian’s back yard where he saw the crown jewel – an enormous tree, bigger than our house, dripping with gold and brown leaves.

Out here in the Midwest, we don't enjoy the carpet of colors that you might see in the more mountainous states.  Fall here is marked more by the sight of a combine in a corn field than it is by the changing leaves.

The suburban neighborhood we live in suffers from an acute insufficiency of trees.  That’s why one of our first orders of business on moving into our house was to plant two trees in the back yard.  But just like Rome wasn’t built in a day, it takes more than a few weeks for a tree to grow. Seven years have passed and the little saplings still aren’t much more than twigs.

Last fall, Eric and his friend Kyle got a hankering to jump in some leaves.  They grabbed a couple of rakes from the garage and trekked out to the back yard.  About five minutes later, they had raked every leaf in the yard into a small, neat pile.

Eric surveyed their handiwork and frowned.  “I don’t think this pile is big enough to jump in.”

But Kyle wasn’t about to give up.  “Let’s put all of these leaves in a bag and save them.  Then next year we'll rake up more.  It shouldn’t be too long before we have enough to make a great jumping pile.”  While I admire Kyle's determination, I don't think he realized that it would take another ten years before they had enough tiny piles to create a sufficient mound.

It saddens me that my kids will probably never know that joys of raking up a pile of crisp foliage and leaping into them.  Unless the miracle grow I poured on our sickly little ash does its job Eric will be out of college before our autumn leaf harvest produces any yield.

When I was a kid, pouncing in piles of leaves was an autumn tradition.  Our family was fortunate to have three generous trees that poured their wealth all over our yard.  We would gather our treasures into heaps.  Then we’d bound through the yard and throw ourselves into our loot. 

Eric and Kyle's bag of leaves hibernated in our garage all winter until Ken and I discovered it behind the lawn chairs and tossed it in the garbage.  “Do you think he’ll notice if we dispose of them?” I asked.  Ken didn’t think so but as autumn advances I keep waiting for Eric to ask about his buried treasure.

I guess its good luck for us that, unlike money which can't buy happiness, this particular treasure does grow on trees.   While our yard may not have a bounty of leafy booty, Sebastian's does and Eric's pretty confident that his pal will generously share the wealth.