The Last One is Special · Nov 17, 01:30 PM
In our back yard there is a vine which creeps up the side of the garage and over its roof. From spring to summer there is a luxuriant growth of leaves and flowers that provides a rich environment for all sorts of insects. You can often hear the whole vine buzzing when the flowers are being plundered by flying insects.
In autumn, the large leaves turn dark, then red, then yellow, and eventually drop off. They circulate around the edges of the yard and between outdoor toys in the wind. One dry weekend I take the children out with a bag each and we try to collect as many fallen leaves as we can before they turn to mush on the ground.
I have sometimes wondered about the leaves, just how they decide to leave the vine; how the wind takes the ones from the corners and edges of the garage first; how some places provide more shelter than others. I thought of the first leaf to fall, and the last; how this marks another year in the life of the vine.
This morning I was up and dressed before anyone else. In those quiet moments I admired the dawn light through the back door in the kitchen. I saw the raindrops on the outside of the window sparkling from the halogen lights in the kitchen. Outside, the wind was teasing the last leaf on the vine. I looked again, it really was the last leaf. That very moment there was a gust, and I saw the last leaf detach and fall to the ground near the shed. I marvelled at this ordinary and somehow special event, feeling privileged to have seen it. The last one is special.
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