of thoughts, now dry and ripe, and ready to be separated from their
integuments; but, alas! I foresee that it will be chiefly husks and
little thought, blasted pig-corn, fit only for cob-meal,—for, as you
sow, so shall you reap.
FALLEN LEAVES.
By the sixth of October the leaves generally begin to fall, in
successive showers, after frost or rain; but the principal
leaf-harvest, the acme of the _Fall_, is commonly about the sixteenth.
Some morning at that date there is perhaps a harder frost than we have
seen, and ice formed under the pump, and now, when the morning wind
rises, the leaves come down in denser showers than ever. They suddenly
form thick beds or carpets on the ground, in this gentle air, or even
without wind, just the size and form of the tree above. Some trees, as
small Hickories, appear to have dropped their leaves instantaneously,
as a soldier grounds arms at a signal; and those of the Hickory, being
bright yellow still, though withered, reflect a blaze of light from the
ground where they lie. Down they have come on all sides, at the first
earnest touch of autumn’s wand, making a sound like rain.
Or else it is after moist and rainy weather that we notice how great a
fall of leaves there has been in the night, though it may not yet be
the touch that loosens the Rock-Maple leaf. The streets are thickly
strewn with the trophies, and fallen Elm-leaves make a dark brown
pavement under our feet. After some remarkably warm Indian-summer day
or days, I perceive that it is the unusual heat which, more than
anything, causes the leaves to fall, there having been, perhaps, no
frost nor rain for some time. The intense heat suddenly ripens and
wilts them, just as it softens and ripens peaches and other fruits, and
causes them to drop.
The leaves of late Red Maples, still bright, strew the earth, often
crimson-spotted on a yellow ground, like some wild apples,—though they
preserve these bright colors on the ground but a day or two, especially
if it rains. On causeways I go by trees here and there all bare and
smoke-like, having lost their brilliant clothing; but there it lies,
nearly as bright as ever, on the ground on one side, and making nearly
as regular a figure as lately on the tree, I would rather say that I
first observe the trees thus flat on the ground like a permanent
colored shadow, and they suggest to look for the boughs that bore them.
A queen might be proud to walk where these gallant trees have spread
their bright cloaks in the mud. I see wagons roll over them as a shadow
or a reflection, and the drivers heed them just as little as they did
their shadows before.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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