Maackia 018: The joy of falling leaves

Happy Thanksgiving! I’m Nathan Langley and this is Maackia, a monthly newsletter on finding balance where you can!

I found myself sitting in the sauna on Saturday, asking myself whether I felt like jumping in the river. The sauna wasn’t overly hot — certainly not enough to chase you out of the room. But I was beginning to wondering if I should brave the wind and the pointy rocks on the trail biting at my feet to get down to the lake and jump in for relief. I didn’t really have a plan to go swimming when I hopped into the sauna. I was just looking for someplace quiet where I could hear myself think. But I knew what was coming — cold. Water so cold it could literally take your breath away. It was October 7th, after all, and most sane people stopped jumping in the water a month ago.

September has been simply gorgeous, with temperatures in the mid-twenty degrees for much of the month. Unfortunately, that all stopped on Wednesday. Since then, fall has come back with a vengeance and has brought some hints of winter with it. The sauna, though, was beginning to become unpleasant. I could start to feel the fire leaving my lungs with each breath. But I wasn’t ready to go outside just yet. I knew that if I pushed a little more, I could reach a state of higher comfort. But I had to sit in the immediate discomfort a little longer.

The leaves at my house typically start falling towards the last week of August. The birch, for whatever reason, decided that they have had enough for the year and begin their slow preparation for winter. Which means raking starts in earnest in the middle of September, when the other trees finally join in.

The number of leaves that fall on the ground here is hard to quantify — I am surrounded by numerous large birch and poplar trees. There are the odd grouping of pine trees too, but their needles don’t travel quite like the others and are much easier to gather quickly.

Despite the overwhelming amount, I enjoy raking the leaves throughout the fall months and the worsening weather. When I worked at the UBC Botanical Gardens, one of my favourite things to do was clear the pathways in the Asian Garden with a backpack blower. There was something about seeing the damp, bare pathway that brought pleasure to my brain. Even more, I enjoyed watching the leaves continue to fall afterwards — to see the different colours, amounts, and patterns that emerged — all to blow everything clear again the next morning.

The process was balanced and enjoyable. Clean up too often and you don't get to appreciate the leaves falling – but wait too long and everything becomes a big muddled mess.

It’s a simple pleasure that brings forth a physical representation of time.

I could tell my heart rate was beginning to pick up, and my face tingled intensely with each ladle of water thrown onto the burning rocks. Time to go.

Leaping into the cold wind, however, didn’t have its usual effect. Instead, it was muted. I could feel it was blowing, but it did not carry a temperature as it hit my skin. A mad dash down the hill to the dock and I am in the water.

There it is! A flash of cold penetrating to my core. Breathe in; breathe out.

Then silence. Keeping still is the key. The water still feels cold, but not frighteningly so. It is, strangely, comfortable.