September 13, 2004

The autumn afternoon air was heavy with the scent of passing seasons. There was a hint of ending warmth to the waning sun...a reminder that the chill of Winter was waiting impatiently just around the calendar corner. Occasional gusts of leaf-laden wind rustled the dying sunflowers along the stone wall.

The woman looked up from her reading and sighed. The approaching Equinox meant there was so much to be done in preparation for the impending seasonal change. There were pumpkins to harvest, flowers to dry, leaves to rake. Leaves to rake...she turned her gaze to the far corner of the lawn.

Leaves...piles and piles of leaves. A cornucopia of colors ranging from violent crimson to flamboyant yellow...leaves and leaves and leaves! The woman allowed her gaze to wander to the old oak tree that lived majestically in the far corner of the property. A mammoth testimony to the strength of Mother Nature and her ability to outlast the ravages of Man and subdivisions.

The woman smiled softly as she studied the small figure beneath the overhead branches of the tree. Rhythmically, the lithe body moved her arms in concert with the unheard music of submission. Already there were two piles of brightly coloured leaves waiting patiently for the leaf bags stacked solemnly in the rusty wheelbarrow. The shapely girl was now working diligently on a third pile of oak detritus, occasionally reaching up to touch her leather collar and smile wistfully to herself.

The woman watched for another moment or two and then called out, “come here, girl.”

Dropping the rake, the young woman turned and with an inherent grace she was hardly aware of, came running to stand in front of the woman.

“Yes, Mistress?”

The woman smiled and said, “show me your palms, girl.”

Without hesitation, two soft and fragile hands were extended with palms up. The tender flesh was blistered in several places and the flesh was red and angry, unused to the domination of the rake handle.

The woman sat back in her chair and studied the proffered hands for a long moment. She opened her mouth as if to speak and was rudely interrupted by the sudden rustling of an arrogant wind gust.

With the wind as their excuse, leaves flew everywhere...escaping from branches and the neat orderly piles they had been consigned to. The woman watched the disrespectful leaves blowing about and sighed. Leaves, leaves, and more leaves.

She turned her gaze from the leaves to the girl before her.

“Let’s try this again,” she said, “and perhaps this time you’ll get it right.”

The woman sighed again. Season changes could be so exhausting, she thought, as she returned to her reading.