There was a guy walking on our roof yesterday, leaf blower in hand. His crunching footsteps overhead got my attention, as did the gobs of autumnal debris that came sailing out of the gutters onto our deck. This happens every year. This year, though, he kindly blew the stuff off the deck as well, so the subsequent sweeping would not be quite the chore it has been in the past. As I heard him make his way toward the kitchen side of the condo, I ran to the sink and watched as he sent a great plume of maple seeds flying, a tiny, silent invasion force of harmless helicopters drifting down, down, down, three stories to the wooded creek below. It was beautiful. It reminded me of my dad, whose architectural logo—on business card, letterhead, and sign—was the maple seed.
No comments:
Post a Comment