Dear neighbor,
I must confess, it was I who stole your leaves. Shirley, I came after dusk with a rake and blanket, and a wheelbarrow, the tools of the trade. I checked to see if you were around, but no, you left me to my silent task.
Just as was taking one of the last loads, Mike peered down the street from his front yard and thought to himself, “Hmm! That looks like Lonnie… and she’s stealing Shirley’s leaves!” He came by to assure me that he’d already called the cops. But I guess they had more important things to do. Mike stayed, still in his sock feet, to entertain me with stories of some recent food marvel he’s created, while I kept stealing leaves right underneath his nose.
Sue, Dave and I stole your leaves today. The city crews were out rounding up all the leaves from the sides of the streets. They gathered them in huge piles using large, carbon-spewing earth-moving equipment. I wonder how many of my tax dollars went to pay people to collect leaves that could have been mowed into lawns as mulch.
But Sue, I didn’t really want those leaves. I was interested in your leaves because I personally know the tree they fell from. It’s a beautiful sugar maple. I think it’s organic. And I’m going to put your leaves in my compost pile, after I chop them up. Dave’s wondering if you wouldn’t mind getting that tree organic-certified. He says he’ll sleep better.
So, dear neighbors, once we’d gotten the heady feeling of serious theft under our fingers, Dave and I decided to steal from the pile of leaves that the city had put together. Mostly they were Jack’s leaves, which I also know personally, so it was okay. He keeps a very clean yard.
Next summer, when all these leaves have been mixed with veggie scraps, chewed up by little worms and turned into lovely compost for the veggie gardens, I’ll think of you, dear neighbors, and that soon I’ll be eating your yard.
All the best,
Lonnie
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