Leaves, that is.
Early morning temperatures announce that summer is over. Leaves on the ground suggest that winter is approaching.
I like raking leaves in autumn, especially on a cold, sunny afternoon. It reminds me of my youth and misses only the smell of burning leaves. Germany does not allow open fires in one’s yard (add that to the list of forbidden practices). My children hate to rake leaves. When they were younger, I forced them to help me, simply because they needed to do something to help around the house. Both have chosen to live where there are no leaves to rake.
The first sentence that I ever wrote for the first novel that I ever attempted (still not completed, because I left it to write others and keep coming back) was: “The heat of the sauna felt good after the cold of the Autumn afternoon spent raking leaves.” That sentence has long since disappeared from later drafts: no more leaves, cold, or sauna. My writing has improved (hardly difficult), and the story has changed significantly. What had started out as the reminiscences of an old man about his military service in Vietnam, has become a first person tale about morality with almost no basis in reality. I hope to have it finished before the last leaves fall this year...
Leave a Reply.
Prior to writing novels, the author enjoyed a multifaceted career: from decorated combat aviator to advertising professional to global communications director of a major consumer brand. He has traveled the world and met sports, film and television stars, political leaders, and royalty. He graduated from Middlebury College, is married, lives in Germany, and has two grown children.