Fall is here in full and along with it comes a rainy wet halloween. We went to our neighbor's house. In our area side streets are missed, and the main roads are where all the cool kids go. We went to watch them come for what seemed like a mile despite the wet roads, the leaves stuck to the ground like melted candy on paper.
Marc tells me that morning that algae bloom can come from wet leaves. Though he has a degree in horticulture, I suspect this is one of those random facts found from the Internet. He later confirms.
The wet leaves on one’s sidewalk or driveway causes phosphorus to fall off. This then trickles down to the Great Lakes winding through a world of pipes and underground waterways feeding algae bloom.
The word bloom sounds too beautiful to be bad, but I know in some far away place from our house where the large and looming lakes surrounds us, it is bad. It’s hard to connect the leaf dying in its last burst of brightness is the same leaf that feeds the murky green water of an algae bloom. I think about how little we really know these tiny details of our home life, our environment, occurring right around us in the wash of a day’s weather.
I am too often the participant and not the observer. I am not aware. I am the kid in line for candy, focused on the goal.
I am the house with the lights off steadily asleep on the lone block that was skipped, separate, but not disconnected from the trail of it all. The realization not to be washed away today.