Piles of Autumn Leaves

 

A Child’s and a Guide Dog’s View of a Pile of Autumn Leaves

 

by Alice Jane-Marie Massa

 

 

While we, indirectly or directly, witness the ravages of Mother Nature and send our prayers and best wishes to those so enormously impacted by Irma and Harvey, I, in contrast, am recalling the more delicate and artistic touches of Mother Nature.  The Midwest’s autumn splendor can reinvigorate a worried and weary soul.

 

In the ample yard of my family’s Hoosier home, the soft maple trees, planted by my maternal grandfather around 1914, turned into bejeweled autumn shades of ruby, gold, emerald, along with outstanding oranges and warm browns. then, the dazzling leaves  dried and fell to prompt a substantial amount of leaf-raking–leaf-raking of the peaceful, rhythmical swish-swish type, not the smelly and noisy type of leaf removal, so common today.  Raking the leaves into a huge pile, then running and jumping into the cushion of dry leaves was a delightful autumn pastime.  In my much younger days, I liked to fashion a gigantic bird’s nest from the pile of leaves.  After this nest-making routine, I–no doubt, pretending to be a bird–was content to sit in the middle of the nest for a while and observe Mother Nature’s September or October splendor.  Actually, in that nest of leaves, I must have felt one with Nature.  I wonder if children today still enjoy this season of raking leaves into a pile for exercise in fun and imagination.

 

Decades later, at the onset of every autumn of my life in Milwaukee, each of my four guide dogs had to come to terms with the fallen leaves.  At times, the crisp autumn oak leaves must have seemed like projectiles to each of my Leader Dogs as we walked through a strong wind.  In a soothing voice, I have chanted the mantra, “They are just paper leaves:  you are fine.”  Each fall, eventually, Keller, Heather, Zoe, and Willow made peace with the falling and flying leaves.

 

Last autumn (Willow’s first autumn with me), my current Leader Dog, Willow, was not happy when a pile of leaves gathered on the sidewalk, directly on our walking route.  My fourth guide dog once again chose to treat the pile of dry leaves as an obstacle.  “No, I am not taking you through that dangerous pile of leaves!  I take better care of you than leading you through all of that!” Willow was most assuredly trying to tell me.

 

“Willow, hup up.”  After a hesitant pace forward, Willow stopped again; I reached out with my right foot and heard a safe pile of leaves beneath my shoe.  “Good dog,” I praised and then commanded, “Willow, forward.”  My Black Labrador Retriever did not move because, of course, she was exercising her right of “intelligent disobedience” (a term learned by guide dog handlers at guide dog schools).

 

“Willow, Hup up,” I urged her again.  No movement.  “Those are just paper leaves.  It is okay,” I tenderly added.

 

Suddenly, I heard a voice from the Milwaukee School of Engineering parking lot:  “Wait!  I will move those leaves for you.”  The man, whose voice I have heard before, kindly wanted to rake the pile of leaves away from Willow and my path.

 

“You do not have to: my guide dog and I can go around the leaves.  My Leader Dog does not like to guide me through leaves,” I explained.

 

“No, this is a big pile.  Just give me a minute.  I will have the pile of leaves completely cleared from the sidewalk.”

 

The worker made the leaves fairly quietly disappear, and I thanked him.  I am sure that Willow was giving him her best Labby smile of satisfaction that, of course, once again, she was absolutely correct with her decision-making process.  I do appreciate how extremely cautious Willow has always been and continues to be with her guide work.  With a clear path ahead of us, I said, “Willow, forward.”  We were on our way into more autumn splendor.

 

I do not think I would ever convince Willow to me one with Nature by sitting in the middle of a pile of dry leaves.  My British Lab has better ideas, and I very happily and gratefully follow her lead.

 

With blessings for all who are dealing with the tremendously harder side of Mother Nature,

Alice and Leader Dog Willow

 

September 13, 2017, Wednesday

 

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