We spent Friday raking leaves. Last fall, our first in this house, we gathered 22 bags full from the front yard alone! This year, my teenaged boys, who grew up without mature trees that dropped their leaves, reveled in the piles.
But 23 bags later, a mystery. Friday, the bags surrounded our already full trash cans (no trash pick up on Thanksgiving Day). No problem. Trash Day would arrive on Monday and all would be well. Then Saturday I glanced out the breakfast room window. I couldn’t place it at first. The trash spot in the alley looked so—normal. Trash cans filled with black bags, waiting to be carried away. Nothing else.
Nothing else.
No 23 bags of leaves. Vanished. Gone.
Did someone take them? They must have. But we didn’t notice unusual noise in the alley at any time—and it would take a little while to load 23 bags. How did they know they all held leaves? Did they come searching for such things specifically—or did they watch us frolicking in the bright autumn sunlight, the crisp air stinging our hands as we worked and laughed and played?
It’s kind of spooky, if you ask me. 23 bags of leaves. The mystery still gnaws at me, probably always will. I’ll never know what happened to those bags. I’m sure someone took them on purpose, for some reason. I’ll have to make something up and use it in a novel someday!
But 23 bags later, a mystery. Friday, the bags surrounded our already full trash cans (no trash pick up on Thanksgiving Day). No problem. Trash Day would arrive on Monday and all would be well. Then Saturday I glanced out the breakfast room window. I couldn’t place it at first. The trash spot in the alley looked so—normal. Trash cans filled with black bags, waiting to be carried away. Nothing else.
Nothing else.
No 23 bags of leaves. Vanished. Gone.
Did someone take them? They must have. But we didn’t notice unusual noise in the alley at any time—and it would take a little while to load 23 bags. How did they know they all held leaves? Did they come searching for such things specifically—or did they watch us frolicking in the bright autumn sunlight, the crisp air stinging our hands as we worked and laughed and played?
It’s kind of spooky, if you ask me. 23 bags of leaves. The mystery still gnaws at me, probably always will. I’ll never know what happened to those bags. I’m sure someone took them on purpose, for some reason. I’ll have to make something up and use it in a novel someday!
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5 comments:
D'Ann,
Although I have no visual evidence to support my theory, I think I know what happened. My late wife, Cynthia, was a big organic gardener, and this was one of her favorite ploys. I've spent many weekends driving up and down alleys in our station wagon picking up discarded bags of leaves to be used for compost and mulch. I'd wager that someone decided to use your leaves for the greater good.
Wow! I had no idea! Just goes to show, yet again, that I am no gardener!
Thanks for the info.
Yep, that was my guess too. Leaves are GREAT for mulch, or for compost piles.
Wow, it seemed like such a creepy mystery until Richard solved the whole thing! I'm like you... I never would have thought of the gardening angle. (Not that my name is Gardner or anything.)
That was also my first thought. If I had such gumption, I'd have been at those 23 bags myself.
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