Raking

I like raking.  The fresh air is therapeutic, and I’ve always taken great satisfaction out of working with my hands.  I raked a big part of the yard a few weeks ago and hauled the leaves off.  As I raked them up, I thought about where they’d been: hanging above my head most of spring, all of summer, and some of fall.  Then they died.

Unlike Dickinson, death does not fascinate me.  Just ask my little brother.

Yesterday, a mouse got caught in a trap behind my piano.  It didn’t die because the only part of it’s body that got caught was it’s tail.  I watched in horror as it scampered around the house, making good time despite the attached trap.  I didn’t want the kids to see it, so I mustered up every ounce of courage I had and pinched the trap with pliers.  I lifted the mouse (who was clawing at the carpet) into the bag and ran it out to my little brother, who -THANKFULLY -was behind my house doing his farm chores.

I handed the bag to him, told him what it was, and then booked it back into my house.  A few minutes later, he brought my empty trap back.

I’m still pretty disturbed over the whole thing, and you can imagine.  If dead leaves affect me the way they do, it’s no wonder a mouse dying will practically send me out of my wits.

The dead leaves just remind me of the people who came before me.  Before you mark me for crazy, let me explain a little.

Yesterday after lunch, I continued the raking job I had started a few weeks ago.  The leaves were once bright and alive -they watched over us, shaded and protected us.  Once they turned brown and fell to the ground, they were left to us to be found and handled.

You can burn dead leaves, it’s true.  You can rake them up and jump into them.  You can do pretty much whatever the heck you want with leaves, really.  It’s up to you.

BUT a wise gardener knows that some of the best fertilizer comes from dead leaves.  If put back into the ground they came from, they will provide the ground with much needed nutrients.

I’ve found it’s the same way with my ancestors.  As much as the comparison between dead leaves and the people I came from seems irreverent, it is also relevant.

If left uncared for, they can’t help us.

If cared carefully for, they will enrich and complete our lives.  This applies directly to temple work, of course.  But aside from that, there’s much to be learned from the lives they led, the lives they touched, the things they said and did and learned and wrote.

My great great great grandfather was a highly decorated Danish officer.  Knowing that makes me want to try harder to be better.  My great great grandfather was a pioneer.  My great grandfather was a well respected and established member of our community, as is his son (my grandfather) and HIS son (my father).  All of these men inspire me to do better -to try harder -to live up to their greatness.

(two of my great-grandfather’s hats sitting on top of my great-grandmother’s shirt.)

Yesterday, my husband asked me during a rare moment of silence on my part, what I was thinking about. I told him I wasn’t thinking about anything.

“That mind of yours is always thinking something,” he laughed.

And given that I can’t even rake leaves without coming inside overwhelmed at my ancestry….

he’s got a point.