Autumn chores in Montana…
Raking Aspen leaves,
Birch-white trunks glimmering in the bright sunshine.
Jackie and I outside,
chattering like Pennsylvania chipmunks
transplanted to the quiet of a Montana afternoon.
Raking Montana leaves isn’t as colorful as the combination we get at home:
Maple, Sweet Gum, Poplar, Oak, so many more.
But here there are horses stomping in the field,
Airedales ripping and tearing around us,
remnants of sixteen inches of snow tucked under a shadowy tree.
Wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow,
We pile leaves in and move them deeper into the woods.
The sun is hot,
The air is still.
It is a perfect day.
I always want to tag a leaf and see if it blows back into the yard
where we eventually rake it again.
Or if it catches a wind current that sets it off on a journey all it’s own
that sends it far, far away.
People are like that … sometimes we rebound right back to the places we love the most and sometimes we dash out into the world, creating new places to call home.