a leaf house
of possibilities
Well if this isn’t a perfect autumnal bit of fiction, then I don’t know what is. Jeanne S- not content with being a proven great at both essay writing and painting/drawing- has decided to kindly bless us with a story here today. And she’s evidently a dab hand at this often unforgiving medium too.
The tone, the humour, the warmth, the artists eye for visual detail and texture- it’s all here.
A lovely start to the week, this.
Enjoy.
TJB.
Fall leaves are change. Green leaves feed the tree when the sun comes and the brown ones feed the earth when the sun goes. The short time in between when the leaves, ignited with color, act only at the whim of the wind or the imagination of the chidren is the magic time. In those mercurial fall days we can for a moment in time command them. We can play.
Out at the very back of her hedged in yard an oak tree had married a maple when they were too young to know any better and the two trunks were entwined in what appeared to be only one twisted tree. The maple was an exhibitionist, her scarlet and yellow dress swayed to the spooky October wind while the staid oak embraced her, his leaves still green. She shed her clothing all at once one sunny blustery day when the summer’s warmth was still sneaking into the fall afternoons. Only when he found her naked did the oak start to blush. When the November grey began he finally gave way to nature and dropped his cover to stand naked beside her.
This Saturday early November morning is clear and cold. It’s time. She finds a rake and begins. Her father is using the new rake so the only one left in the garage is rusty. It’s flexible metal tines are so old that they bend every which way when she rakes too hard, so she’s careful to go slowly. Every once in a while she has to stop to pick the skewered leaves off in handfuls so she can straigten the blades. That’s hard to do with gloves on, especially the oversized work gloves she grabbed from her father’s old work bench in the garage. She had to wear something or the rough wooden handle might give her splinters. Her fingers didn’t fill them out and they flopped over at the ends. Especially the thumbs, they are almost bent in half. Her palms hold the rake as she begins to comb the fallen leaves out of the back yard’s hair.
The newly fallen oak leaves are crispy and easy to clear so her father already has them over to the side of the yard by the evergreen hedges in a big pile. The maple leaves underneath have soaked up the damp of the earth. Heavier now, they remain. It’s harder work but that is where she starts. Instead of raking them into a pile she rakes them into lines.
“Hey kiddo!” Her dad looks up from his work. “I thought you were going to help me out this morning. Lets rake those over here into piles like this.” He nods toward the mountain of crunch next to him. I won’t be able to burn today, it’s suppose to be windy later so you guys can jump in them when we’re done.” Her brother is inside watching his morning cowboy shows.
Tempting, but nah, she has bigger plans for her leaves.
“I’ll rake them in a pile in plenty of time so you can burn them, I promise, but since you can’t do that today, I’m making a leaf house. I mean, I want to make a leaf house, OK?” She looks over towards her father for his permission but he’s gone.
I guess it’s Ok, she shrugs and returns her attention to raking the rows.
“Banzai!” She hears the scream but it’s too late to react. she is nearly smothered in a cascade of leaves her father has just dumped on her head. To retaliate she grabs as many as her clown hands can hold and tosses them toward where he was just a moment ago. Too slow. He’s already up by the shelter of the back porch but before he heads inside he laughs as he calls over his shoulder. “Do whatever you want, just make sure they’re in a pile when you’re done.
Daydreams join her then time bids adieu as the rake guides the leaves into walls. Her dream home takes shape. The rake is her brush. She paints her future exactly as she she hopes it will be. She sweeps her corner of the yard pulling the lines of leaves into a large rectangle. Next, she clears a small opening in the front, the entrance, and a larger opening in the back, the french doors leading to the formal English gardens. Later, in the evening, she will stroll there on a path lined by lavender with the gentleman who hopes to win her heart. His touch will electrify her when he takes her hand in his for the first time. Mesmeried by the possibility, she pauses, and rests leaning on the rake for a moment to let the feeling linger. The late morning sun warms her head and shoulders.
Warmth!, She rouses herself. It must be a cosy home. I need some furnishings. A quick trip to the garage and she selects an old webbed folding chair for the reading room and spare piece of wooden board for her books. What else? Ah yes the old metal bucket in the corner, a toilet? Yuck! Do I have to consider reality? NO, not today. It stays where it is. She sets the chair and the board inside the leaf house and heads into her real house for more supplies. From her bedroom she grabs a few books, a pillow, a blanket, and an old doll baby. Arms full she heads into the kitchen, tosses them on the table and opens the fridge.
“What on earth are you doing with your bedding on the kitchen table young lady?”
“I’m putting them in my leaf house bedroom. Do you think I can sleep outside tonight?”
“No you aren’t and no you cant. I just washed those. Take them right back upstairs this minute and make sure you make your bed. I don’t want to see those flomped on your floor either.”
“But Maa um”, she whines.
“No buts from you. Do as I say.”
“mer mer mer mer mer” she mumbles in a mocking sing song under her breath in protest. Still, she does as she’s bid.
Back in the kitchen, back at the fridge, back under her mother’s critical eye, she stares at the shelves as she hangs on the open door surveying the contents.
“Don’t stand there with the door open. Get what you want and close the door. How many times have I told you? We aren’t made of money? Quit wasting energy.”
Not really even hearing, she grabs the grape jelly and the peanut butter then closes the refrigerator door.
“Mom, can I take my sandwich outside?”
“As long as you clean up your mess.”
Hands full, the sandwich dangling from her mouth she heads back to her refuge.
It’s funny how good a pb&j tastes outside where it’s nice and quite. What shall I do next? I think I’ll collect some food in case I have company. She gathers all the acorns she can find holding them in the apron of her turned up shirt and puts them in a small pile in the corner of her house that is the ‘kitchen' in case her friends, the squirrels wish to join her for a visit later. They can be quite pleasant though sometimes they are a bit too chatty. There are those hard red berries still on the scraggly bushes, she picks a few. They’re poisonous but she will only use them to defend herself from evil. She might grind them up later for a potion.
Feeling a little sleepy now, since she can’t have a real blanket, she grabs a few handfuls of the dryer oak leaves and spreads them out for a bed. Then makes a smaller bed for her baby. She lays her baby down and lies down beside her in her own bed for a quick nap. Turning to her side she curls up to get comfy. Just before she closes her eyes, she sees the leaf right next to her nose move slightly. Out crawls a Daddy Long Legs.
“I thought you were spending the afternoon in your leaf house.” her mom calls out as she runs past her up to her room.
“Nope, decided I’m gonna read in my room.”
Her brother turns off the TV.
“Hey mom, I’m headed outside to play. I might be next door at Tom’s or down at the park.”
“Be home by dinner. I don’t want to have to come looking.”
“K”
He heads out the back door and sees the leaf house. Cool, now I know what I can do this afternoon.
He heads over to Tom’s and bangs on the door.
Tom answers.
“Hey, you wanna come outside and play army?” he asks, “The leaf fort is already built.”
 | A guest post by
|
Lovely visuals both in prose and drawings.