LETTERS FROM HOME: LEAVES FALL, LIGHTNING STRIKES, THE CITY DREAMS ON

Nov. 2, 1995

Dear C.C.

We are raking leaves into piles that grow and grow because the leaves continue to fall and fall. We do it the old-fashioned way. If each of us is here at this moment to add our voice to the universal chorus, let mine not sound life a leaf blower.

I wonder how it was decided that every yard in town ought to be leaf-free in the fall. Given Nature's wisdom, it makes sense that fallen leaves could protect the grass and flowers through the winter, sort of like a blanket to be gently removed in the spring when no longer needed.

So I called an agronomist with the University of Missouri who said I was wrong. Leaving a thick carpet of leaves on your lawn over the winter can damage it because they tend to get wet and mat together and can suffocate the grass.

Best to chomp up the leaves with a mulcher or simply use a lawn mower, he said. As long as you make sure the mulch isn't any more than an inch deep, a little bit of mulch will insulate the grass over the winter and provide nourishing organic matter in the spring.

That's what happens when you become a homeowner. Ugly words like mulch enter your vocabulary. And Spackle, though I rather like at least the sound of that one. And insurance of all kinds, hedges against wind storms and the lightning bolt of death.

Sometimes I long for the carefree days of apartment-house living, when a vacuum cleaner was the only household appliance you were required to own. Then I remember the guy below me in Eureka who played "Nights in White Satin" every evening, over and over and over. And the couple down the hall in Redwood City whose door had been broken so many times in fights that they just quit closing what was left.

DC's theory on why big cities have so many restaurants and so much entertainment is that most of the residents live in apartments. The money they never spend on house painters and roofers can go for sushi and jazz clubs. We don't have sushi or jazz clubs in Cape Girardeau, but the home renovation stores are jumping on Saturday night.

At this moment, that's not a complaint.

An old friend of DC's family died last week. He had played the clarinet and violin and was involved in many community activities. Lots of like-minded people came to say goodbye. Many were those who saw Cape Girardeau through the heart of the 20th century, stand-up men and women whose concern for the public wealth produced a community that will enter the next century healthy and well cared for.

"Who's coming along to replace these people?" DC wonders aloud. She's concerned for the city's future.

The simple answer is, it's up to you and me and our neighbors who want the city to continue to thrive, and in fact to fulfill our dream of a city. Generations in their prime either build on the good work of their predecessors or they leave the job to others and wonder how things could go so wrong.

So we are in the yard raking leaves and mulching our somnolent lawn.

The leaves fall from the tree and the tree lives on.

Love, Sam

~Sam Blackwell is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.