Falling Leaves

I looked out the front window last week and noticed that the maple tree on the boulevard in front of our house had a yellow top. Today, the leaves are vibrant oranges and reds. They're blanketing the ground with their golden canopy. I see children pick them up on their way home from school. This take me back to my childhood when my sister and I gathered autumn leaves and pasted them in a scrapbook.  

A few years ago a terrible wind storm damaged one of the linden trees that  line the boulevard on our street. The township gave us a choice of replacement saplings and my husband and I chose a maple tree. It grew quickly and stood up well to our harsh Canadian winds.

I gaze at its height and brilliant colours and delight in the fact that we are the only house on the crescent with such a magnificent tree. At dusk the golden hues blend into the sunset that comes all to early now that autumn has arrived.


In our backyard, the fifty-year-old floribunda rose bush from my in-laws' Toronto garden is still blooming. It grew to a record height this year and managed to wiggle its stems through the fence, much to the delight of our neighbours. Their eldest son was married this summer and the wedding rehearsal was held in their backyard. My red roses spilled over their table that was covered in white linen and not one person failed to comment on their intoxicating fragrance.

I love all the things that autumn brings. Curling up in a comfy chair with a good book and a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream, si vou plait. The smell of wood fires, pots of chrysanthemums, pumpkins on front porches and chilly nights remind me that Halloween is but a few weeks away. By then most of the trees will be bare and we'll be preparing ourselves for the onset of winter. In the meantime, I'll enjoy raking the leaves by hand, digging up my flower bulbs and storing them until next year, baking applesauce spice cakes and sipping dry sherry by the fireplace.