Leaving Leaves

MY ENTIRE YARD, which is not small, is now completely covered with leaves, mostly red, orange, and yellow maple leaves, but some oak, and a few other varieties. My beautful ornamental maples become gorgeous while most trees remained green, especially on the distant hillsides, remained gloriously, resplendantly, vividly bright for a few days, then blew off during a windy day. It was heartbreaking and frustrating at first, but a little internal evolution taught me that my memory was intact, and that I ought to be grateful for what I had, and still have. Now the ground is colorful, and the ornamental maples are bare branched, a special kind of beauty all its own. There are, however, still millions of leaves left on my many trees, about twenty five trees in all, and as the fall progresses towards winter, the yard will get deeper...and deeper, in leaves. That's fine with me. Eighteen and a half years ago I built a house in a very small town, because I couldn't afford to own a home in a city. I bought a piece of land with only a tree or two, put up the house, then planted trees all over the yard, front and back. The brand new house was sitting in the middle of a barren, rock strewn construction site. I wanted to change that. Now, nearly two decades later, I have a yard full of big beautiful trees, deciduous trees. I recall my sweet mother, RIP, suggested many years ago that I might eventually come to regret having planted all those trees. I could and can see her point, but, no, no regrets here. I don't mind the leaves, and I don't mind the dark cool house in the summer.The trick to dealing with the leaves is to not mind them. My house faces the south; during the hottest days of summer the house is very dark inside, surrounded by and shaded by many trees. In the winter, with the sun low in the southern sky and shining straight into my house, and the leaves off the trees, my house is bright, well lighted naturally, and cheery, just what I want in the deep dark days of winter, not that winter days are so deep and dark anymore, what with climate change...(in my neck of rhe woods, winters are warmer every year, as are summers).....By the time spring arrives, my yard will still be covered with leaves, but not utterly inundated with them, as I will continue to dispose of six big barels of leaves every week, focusing on sweeping up big piles and keeping them spread out, to prevent wildfires. With the first lawn mowing, they will be reduced sufficiently to mulch, fertilizing the soil. I have little appreciation to vast, beautifully maintained lawns with a thick cover of grass, every blade identical,looking almost like plastic carpet or artificial turf, not a single weed, and myabe one scraggly young tree surrounded by a brown mulch circle. To me, that's boring, and I think its also not the best way to cooperate with nature, which, if we are smart, we will begin doing much more of. I am big proponent of "no mow May". Also, of leaving a few small areas of one's lawn in a "naturally wild" condition all year long, for insects and for the planet. The plastic grass have no trees because trees block the view from the street of their half million dollar home, and, after all, since each and every leaves must, absolutely must be policed, no trees means no troublesome, annoyng back breaking leaves to blow away or mulch. Most people seem to tink that such intricately manicured, uncluttered lawns are beautiful; I beg to differ.The more you think about it, the more you realize America's multitude of cultural mental illnesses, hatred of trees being among them. Endless rows of million dollar houses, perfect lawns, not a weed, not a blade of grass out of place, few if any trees. How barren, how extreme. The world is reaching agreement that thirty percent of the planet's land must be set aside for nature, as wilderness. To me, that number seems low. In my more perfect futuristic world, the human population would live with modest living standards, small vertical dwellings, with most of Earth's land and water left for the billions of other species which we all too often seem to ignore.