“Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.” – Emily Brontë
October ushers in the time of vibrant golden and russet hues of deciduous plants. In the winter, only the conifers with needles instead of leaves and evergreen shrubs proclaim the green flash of the lost summer. Temperatures drop and days get shorter. In my garden, a few leaves on the maple trees are turning colour.
With human-caused climate change, the seasons have become unpredictable, unprecedented. Still, autumn means less direct sunlight, and the chlorophyll in the leaves is starting to break down. This lack of chlorophyll reveals yellow and orange pigments that were already present but masked during the warmer months. It’s time for deciduous trees to prepare for their winter rest.
The valley oak and dogwoods produce red leaves in fall. This is caused by sugars that can get trapped in the leaves. A chemical change creates new pigments (called anthocyanins) that weren’t part of each leaf during the growing season.
As October slides into November, the bond between leaf and branch weakens. Eventually, the leaf will drop. This is the wisdom of ancient trees. The tree uses less energy, conserving moisture within the trunk so it won’t dry out. It allows the wind to blow through the branches, putting less strain on the tree in the season of frigid storms. The wind blows the leaves in a dervish dance of piles and drifts.
We gardeners are used to using noisy leaf blowers and rakes to deal with the “mess” of discarded leaves. But even fallen leaves serve a purpose. They decompose to return nutrients to the soil that will support the trees’ spring growth. In England, some gardeners bag up fallen leaves into a sack with holes and leave them to decompose for a year. In the following year, there’s a bag of usable plant nutrients called leaf mold.
Fallen leaves don’t only help gardeners
Fallen leaves help animals, too. Many insects hibernate through the winter in leaf litter and other dead plant material like hollow stems. In the fall and winter, larvae and cocoons of many species of butterflies and moths are nestled in the leaves, unseen to us.
Our bumblebee depends on leaf litter. The queen bees burrow an inch or two into the soil and need a layer of leaves to protect them from the bitter cold. Overwintering bugs are an essential winter food source for birds. They will forage through leaf litter for insects and larvae. Leaving leaves in place helps wildlife survive the winter.
And fallen leaves inspire artists. Jon Foreman in Wales is an earth artist. His art is made directly in the landscape, as he sculpts the land itself into earthworks or makes designs using natural materials such as rocks, twigs or fallen leaves. The art itself is left in place; an ephemeral installation subject to whatever nature has in store.
Walking along a beach on the wild Wales coastline, I found one of his installations, a stone circle mandala. It made me reflect, breathe deeply and smile. It reminded me that nature is the greatest artist of all.
The Croatian artist Nikola Faller has been making leaf art for years, combining yellow and red leaves on the grass of local parks. Paths, patterns and forms are drawn with a rake instead of a pencil, but the effect is the same, displaying the power of art in just about any medium. The distinctiveness of earth art is that it leaves walls, galleries and museums behind; its canvas is open space.
Nothing commercial about nature—just unsigned inspiration to make us linger, admire, and smile.
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image 1: Peggychouchair; image 2: Emily L. Quint Freeman
