Ah...to be a leaf

There is a little Henry David Big T in my old soul. I loveth the outeth doors. Especially in the spring because of tornados--but also in the fall because of majesty. Fall is when nature calls the great things of the earth to cometh fourth. No, really.

Fall is when the harvest begins. The great Nebraska fields of tall green corn turn to brown and the combines create great clouds of brown dust as they turn the rows into mounds of yellow golden nuggets. Pay up Department of Agriculture. We hath doneth it again and filleth the elevators with more #2 yellow corn that nobody wanteth. Unless gas gets any higher.

The pumpkins and the gords reach deep into the black Nebraska dirt and search for that little bit of something that will turn them from green into brilliant shades of gold. Neateth. This is the time of year when we can teach children how to skillfully use a sharp knife to cuteth a big smile. Double neateth.

And, for those optimists amoungeth us, the knights of the plains, those majestic cottonwoods turn to all kinds of colors...gold and red and brown. And the sugar maple creates an even more impressive stew of color. Free no lesseth.

Slowly, the grip of summmer goeth as the winds of the North turn natures air conditioning well below the comfort level. The leaves fill the air with changing color and blow into piles of laugh creating crunch.

Then..."whack." A sound of steel on steel? A threat? Should I run Henry David Big T?

No, alas. It's the human ending this great and grand color spectacle with a common rake. All of the glorious color is soon stuffed into giant brown bags with Wal-Mart written on the side. Soon, a truck comes along and crunches the great color scheme even more before depositing this most grand of paintings in a giant mound with empty tuna can, junk food wrappers, and dirty disposable diapers.

I understand now, Henry David Big T. The bitter cold of winter is what nature gives us when we treat her beautiful fall like thisith.