Another thrilling account of my adventures in the natural world

What a great day Sunday was. And by "great" I mean, of course, practically windless. Just the slightest breeze and sunny skies. Mild temperature. The kind of day that can make a person do things they might ordinarily avoid. Like raking leaves.

So it was that in the late afternoon I ventured forth with rake and bags to relieve the yard of the stress of thousands of pin oak, maple and sycamore leaves which had the audacity to flounce about atop the weeds and grasses (more of the former than the latter) which I like to think of as my front lawn. In the Rockwood area where I reside there are lots and lots of trees. The developers in 1961 had the foresight to plant oaks in every yard. Today we reap the benefits in the form of shade, tranquility, steady home values and of course, leaves.

For the most part I really don't mind raking leaves. I've tried the leaf blowers and the mulching mower route, they have their place but there's a sort of solace to be taken from the calm movement of rake across grass. And God knows I've got the time. The layoff saw to that.

Neighbors strolled by, some stopping for brief chats. A squirrel or two chattered on some of the lower branches, mocking Ollie who was constrained by the backyard gate and reduced to a few taunting barks which seemed to delight the squirrels even more.I filled six 55-gallon bags with leaves and was almost through just as the sun had moved below the tops of trees and houses when I heard the throaty calls of Canadian geese in the distance. I looked up just in time to see a beautiful v-formation of them, maybe 15 or 20. The striking thing about them was that their chests seemed to be blazing as the red-orange of the sunset reflected off their white breast feathers.

I realized that I had just been shown the reason that all those leaves fell. It was so people would rake them, look up at the darkening blue of that Sunday's early evening sky and be regaled by a sunset's reflection off the chests of Canadian geese. There's a reason for everything.