Leaves

Even the beloved goat willow shed most of its leaves last week.

If you are very lucky, you will occasionally catch the moment when a tree decides that it’s time to shed and, without wind or trauma, leaves fall around you like huge coloured petals scattered by a giant.

‘Abscission’, a new word for me. Lovely.

If I were to launch a new product that was not only staggeringly beautiful but fed insects and made soil, absorbed carbon from the atmosphere while oozing oxygen, we’d all have one.

Leaves are a gift and they fall at your feet for free.

If you’re lucky enough to have a garden, grab a couple of bin-liners and stuff them full of leaves that have dropped where you don’t want them.

They will smell delicious. Take as big an armful as you can manage and breath deep. They will absorb your cares.

If the leaves have fallen on flower beds, leave them, it’s where they belong. They’ll have mostly disappeared come the spring. Worms and the weather work hard in the winter.

Tie the tops of your stuffed black bags and hide them in a quiet corner for a couple of years.

Viola! You are a magician! Or a worm. Two huge bin-bags have transformed themselves into small, flat, bag pancakes. You have made a tiny amount of rare and precious sweet-smelling compost.

Clever nature. Clever you.