The Mast-Head: Taking Up Rakes

One of the things I’ve noticed this fall, a season without any even glancing blows from tropical storms or, perish the thought, hurricanes, is that the volume of leaves fallen from the trees by now has been prodigious. Down near the bay where we live in Amagansett, November’s nearly unbroken northerly winds most years push what oak leaves manage to reach the ground swiftly into the underbrush.

This year, though, they piled up, covering the grass and giving our pet pig, Leo, who is secretive about such things, plenty of places to hide his droppings. Our 4-year-old son, Ellis, and I took up our rakes the Sunday before Thanksgiving to see what we could do.

The wind was up that afternoon and made our work, provided we went along from west to east, relatively easy. We made two piles before heading inside for hot chocolate.

Overnight, however, the piles appeared to have shrunk by half, and by midmorning, when Ellis and I got around to it, there were far fewer to layer on the compost heap while we dragged the rest into the underbrush.

Environmentalists say we should learn to tolerate some leaves on the ground, as they help  replenish the soil at the end of the growing season. I wonder, though, just what sustains the grass up in the village outside our office, where leaves are hardly left to settle before they are vacuumed away. There were some to be seen this week on the portion of the library lawn visible from my window, but the flagpole green just beyond was strangely, disturbingly bare.

I like things like lawns a little rough around the edges and find the perfect public face of many properties here off-putting. Nevertheless, most fall mornings when the wind has blown a little pile of leaves in front of The Star’s main door, I am the first to pick up a broom and sweep them into the gutter.