It’s the end of fall, when leaves cling to purple-brown driveways like slugs, their soggy suction aiding their invasion, papering over sidewalks and barked garden beds. The only manual means of removing them involves scraping and brushing, shoving and dragging, to the detriment of all that lies beneath.
And then along comes a leaf-blower. The leaves resist, bunkering down into the wetness, hiding with their neighbors, defying removal. The plastic wand waves their direction. Gently, they are urged, implored, and finally, demanded. They’re tossed into the air, and dust and leaves sparkle. The brown is blown away, revealing red and gold, orange and yellow, swirling in a dance with the air. An unseen current breathes forth from the end of the pipe, gracing the leaves without a touch, revealing their beauty for one last time as they are carried to their proper place.
Yes, there’s magic in leaf blowing.
Copyright 2014 Andrea Lundgren
Andrea Lundgren 