When I was a very little girl I used to help my dad rake leaves from our large lawn in the fall. He bought me a tiny little rake,(I can still remember the sting of the blisters I would get on the web between my thumb and index finger!) and we would gather piles of leaves into old shower curtain liners and haul them to a place he referred to as "the edge." This was a drop off on our property, and we would pile leaves, old branches, garden debris and the like there. Back then it was permissible to burn leaves, too, and we often did. The smell of burning leaves on a crisp fall day is a sweet perfume of my past. Our home was under a flyway for waterfowl, and leaf raking was usually punctuated by flocks of geese V-ing southward overhead, calling with their haunting voices. It thrilled me.
Then, 21 years ago (tomorrow!) I gave birth to my sweet daughter. It was an unseasonably warm day, and the window in my hospital room was open. I vividly remember lying there, getting to know the new person who would consume all my time, energy and love for the coming years. Outside the warm breeze blew in the sound of Canada geese, flying north for spring. Wave after wave of them flew over, heralding the birth of our new babe. It was magic music.
Today when I see geese like this fine pair, I take a moment to remember the feelings past that were set to the music of their calls. It is a sound to cherish.
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