| The Preacher’s Corner By Rev. Dr. Milton Winter “Go natural” and let the leaves lie Sorting
through old family photos is always fun, and I’ve been at it for the
past couple of weeks. There are many photos of my grandmother (mother’s
mother), but not a single one showing her in the activities I remember
best. These were at her cooking in the kitchen, tending her beloved
roses, and reading her Bible just before bed. Grandmother
lived in a world before women’s liberation, and I don’t suppose anyone
ever asked her if she wanted to be a wife and mother, or if cooking was
her preference, much less her pleasure. I doubt if she even raised
these points in her own mind. As I say, it was a different era. I
do think, however, that Grandmother genuinely loved her flowers. Almost
every morning she would be out tending them. Periodically she would
engage a paid helper to do some of the heavy work, but she could wield
a rake as easily as she could cut her roses for beautiful floral
arrangements. My zeal for yard work comes in fits
and starts. Mostly fits. But last week’s weather was irresistible, and
I resolved to go outside and rake the back yard. But I had to do it
carefully, so as not to end up at the chiropractor’s. I am pleased to
say the result was achieved. The front yard will
have to wait. Not all the trees in my vicinity have dropped their
leaves. I note that the pecan trees go first, then the dogwoods, with
the oaks and maples last. I am not inclined to pre-empt Mother Nature
on this score. Every year I threaten to “go natural” and let the leaves
lie, so nature can take her course. Presbyterian
ministers have always insisted on a Biblical warrant for everything
they do, so if you ask me for one now, I would say it is where God told
Adam and Eve “to dress and keep the garden.” But,
as I say, I do my yard work mostly under the compulsion of, “What will
the neighbors think?” and I wonder if Adam and Eve may have felt the
same way, hence the genesis of “original sin.” When
I rake, I always think. This time, I caught a whiff from who knows
where of someone burning leaves. You are not supposed to do that in
Holly Springs, but when I was a child in Cleveland, everybody did. Fire
is “natural,” so I cannot see what harm it does, although I do recall a
time or two when the fire truck had to come and extinguish someone’s
yard after the leaf pile got out of hand. Burning
the leaves was a satisfying exercise. You got to see the cycle of
nature go full circle. Grandmother burned our leaves, but only after I
was allowed to dive into the pile, running at a full gallop with our
terrier “Skipper” following close behind. “Nice people,” my grandmother assured me, always took their leaves around back to burn. The
last time I noticed someone burning leaves was on the highway between
Byhalia and Hernando. A man was feeding a huge pile and the smoke was
blowing nicely toward the west. The only trouble was that his wife’s
clothes line was in that direction, and it was being thoroughly smoked.
The man was raking away, resolutely facing in the other direction, but
I’ll bet he had to run the washer and re-hang those linens once his
wife realized what had happened! The human memory
is a wonderful thing, when even a whiff of burning leaves can make us
think of happy autumns in the long ago. Whatever the state of our bank
account, we have a great deal to be thankful for, and my prayer for
each one who reads this is a hearty Thanksgiving, and time to pause,
remember, and be grateful.
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