leaves | Seeds of Design

It’s become a frequent topic of conversation these days and one often fraught with defensive/aggressive/heated words but, even worse indifference. That last noun to me is one I find unacceptable simply because it implies a total lack of personal responsibility. I’m talking about the matter of dealing with autumn’s fallen leaves. For years, it was considered de rigeur to rake, collect and bag the leaves. It symbolized tidy, cared-for properties of which the owners took immense pride.

Then, composting became a thing and everyone was encouraged to put all the collected leaves into their compost heap which of course assumes one had such a feature. In some cases, towns had begun collecting the bagged (large brown paper sacks) leaves and composting the lot to eventually offer free compost to its residents. At first, building or buying a personal compost bin was also met with resistance. Would it smell (no), attract critters like raccoons and skunks (also no). A proper composter composed of the correct ratio of green and brown organic waste from both kitchen and garden should not have any strong or bad odor. Nor are creatures drawn to it because that sort of material is available in plenty in nature. It’s the stuff we put out in our garbage cans they’re after.

Occasionally, animals such as opossums and mice that already live in the area, might get into the lower depths of the heap because they seek warmth – as the bio-materials break down, heat is generated which makes for cozy quarters in the depth of winter. By the time springs rolls around, they’ve usually left. No harm done.

In any case, folks eventually came around to seeing the value of composting. Some started it in their own properties and others happily handed them over to the town. But everyone learned the benefits of composting – using the mature compost to enrich their soils and appreciating how well it performed as a mulch to suppress weeds and hold in moisture.

Fun fact –when I started on my garden 30 years ago, I decided I would apply only organic methods and also set up both a rain barrel and composter. The latter being exclusively for kitchen scraps while the larger quantity of garden waste was relegated to the woods. For this, I was called “quaint and old fashioned”. Now, I’m simply a gardener ahead of her time which is laughable considering how very ancient those practices are. I’ll happily take old fashioned and quaint. Only in the realm of gardening mind you. Just to be clear!

Currently, the discussion of how to handle those fallen leaves has shifted somewhat. While the leaves are still good to compost, letting them remain where they have fallen is encouraged. It makes senses that the leaves will provide hideaways for small creatures through the winter and eventually degrade into the soil putting back nutrients for next years demands. What type of creatures you ask? Bumblebees, some moths and butterflies, their eggs, caterpillars, pupae, beetles, woodlice and more which are integral to the food webs. When we remove the leaves, we are disposing off them too.

The general problem many have with this is that it makes the garden look messy. Neglected. It is a matter of aesthetics. Which as we know changes all the time. If everyone left the leaves alone, then the same ‘messy’ look wouldn’t stick out. As it stands now, the variations in a neighborhood actually point out the gardeners who think caring for the environment is more important to them..By no means does that mean the rest do not care but, its the optics that make some folk pass judgment. There are a few ‘tricks’ to letting folk know you aren’t a lazy, negligent or unconcerned gardener – for instance, keep the front edge of the plant beds clean with an application of a layer of (preferably homegrown!) compost and let the fallen leaves cover the rest of bed beyond. Or, edge the beds with attractive material like bricks or prettily patterned metal edgers. Juxtapose messy with tidy.

The other valid concern is about how a thick mat of leaves can easily smother a lawn. (I’m happy to revisit the whole lawn situation at another time and I will). If this is something that is indeed a problem, by all means remove those leaves but, distribute them around plants in the beds and borders. Compost any excess that remains. At the same time, I gently nudge you to reflect on whether you really need as much lawn.

There is no disagreement that as the leaf litter degrades, it becomes humus which is a highly rich layer, but also, in removing the leaves, we are depriving the garden of what is considered an ecologically prized zone, one that is an invaluable habitat for the critters that gardeners need to help out the plants they grow. In nature, when trees and other plants shed their foliage, it’s not to merely dispose of them. They are setting up their own cyclical system of supplying themselves with the nutrients as well as the useful creatures they will require in the following growing season. So when we, in our gardens go about gathering up all the leaves, we are depriving the plants of their natural food, Think about all the fertilizer that is applied annually – unnecessary, costly and unhealthy when it gets into the water table or as run-off into bodies of water nearby.

In my own garden, I let the fallen leaves remain in place except over the tiny front lawn (if one can call it that) that does get smothered easily as well as the path through the meadow that leads to the woods beyond. The leaves from these areas get blown onto the beds/areas close by. Far less work than raking and gathering!

It really isn’t an all or nothing situation. First and foremost, as gardeners, we are on the same side so lets not fight. Together, we garden to create beauty and care responsibly for the piece of Earth of which we are so very privileged to be custodians. That is our covenant.

In the final analysis, we want to leave behind a better world. Surely, we can all agree on that.

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At this time of year, there is an ethereal quality to the light so special that I’m moved to pause and simply bathe in it. Neither warm nor cool, it skims over my person as if to reassure me that it is real and is here to close out the days of warm weather with grace and beauty. Come late afternoon, the low slants of beams set the garden aglow. Every plant appears gilded, every wing speckled in gold dust. The golden hour of a day, a season, a year.

In the gloaming are revealed glimmers that bring so much joy, such unparalleled beauty.

Going about the myriad chores of the season, it is easy to miss the glimmers. But, I’ve learned over the years to slow down, sit down even, in order to do justice to this seasonal gift from Nature. How else would I be at liberty to observe the iridescent clusters of mason bees having one final fling with the mass of asters before the first frost claims the flowers for itself and the revelers go into hibernation.

The Amsonia scattered at various points of the garden grab the light to draw attention to themselves – their leaves having turned a bright yellow shout for attention as the rays of sunlight sets it afire. In contrast, the burgundy leaves of the oakleaf hydrangea appear like smoldering embers when back lit.

As leaves from surrounding trees silently swirl and twirl down in a bolero guided by the music of the wind only they can hear, I’m suddenly conscious of the air turning cold and pull my coat tighter. I feel privileged to have witnessed this collaborative performance of natural elements that feels both intimate and public at the same time.

In the midst of decay and senescence, my eyes stop at a tumble of rambunctious nasturtiums. The happily trailing plant still wears leaves that radiate emerald green punctuated by flowers of brilliant vermilion – as though it’s celebrating something known only to itself. I’m envious of its carefree ways.

Soon, I will harvest the leaves to make one final batch of pesto to freeze for winter meals. Memories of the growing season and dreams for the one to come will be indulged.

The hydrangea have begun to blush deeply and I take a break from some tedious chores to cut armloads of the flowers – to bring them indoors to fill big white, ironstone pitchers. They mark the season in a most graceful manner. With such a large bounty, I’m able to share it with those who enjoy them as much. Spreading the joy is a gardener’s perk.

The hydrangea perform once again at the holidays. Sprayed in gold, they light up the dark corners of the interior and chase away the melancholic shadows.

This being the time to divide plants, there are several that need to be attended in my garden. Particularly the ever exuberant asters, goldenrods and wood anemones. All beloved natives that surely every garden must welcome but they do need to be reined in periodically. All my ‘extras’ are readily accepted by friends and neighbors. It pleases me no end that a piece of my garden resides in theirs. Just as my own garden cherishes quite a few members that arrived from similar acts of generosity.

Continuing the spirit of sharing, in getting the plants ready for the greenhouse, a great deal of pruning and cutting occurs. From the rosemary and bay plants, I make little bundles of the cuttings and give them away to the keen cooks in my life. The thought that they will enjoy many winter meals perfumed by the herbs is enough to warm my heart. There really is joy in giving.

Small, subtle glimmers. Expansive, enduring bliss.