Scratchy Stuff

There's an old saying that a gift given to the wrong person, at the wrong time will produce poor grades. I believe that is true.

Take, for example, the subject of leaves. Now I have some deep and astute perceptions about leaves having had the opportunity to observe them all my life. Not everyone has had this opportunity, nor have they made much use of salient facts about folliage.

One cannot help but think of rakes when they think of leaves. Early childhood experience confirms the relationship of the two. A rake has its season, generally in the Fall. Not all objects have their own special season, for instance, one can experience a tree year-round. But a rake is best experienced in the Fall, if one must experience it at all.

If one avoids this experience and leaves the leaf unraked in Autumn, Spring chaos is sure to follow. And with all chaotic Spring situations comes the unsung hoe. ( It is a rare Ode, indeed, sung to a hoe.) Even so, the hoe is one of those heavy, clunky fellows who is lucky enough to have obtained a season all its own. Quite frankly, one never thinks of hoeing leaves in the Fall.

The discussion of seasons leads one quite naturally to consider color. Back in the early '50's, unless one was well traveled or a New Englander, the general populace was thoroughly convinced that leaves were green. Thus, if someone, a student, perhaps, presented a teacher with a bouquet of red leaves, the gift would be well received. Red roses are lovely, but a bouquet of red leaves? Ah! Extraordinaire!

For a scientific explanation of leaf color we have to consider genus. Acer genus produces maple syrup while the Fraxinus genus produces not the powdery substance left after wood has burned but rather trees used for timber and shade. The Quercus genus provides oak leaves which are useful in medicines and the Rhus Venenata produces leaves that "medicate" in quite a different fashion, altogether.

My sister, never a sophist, yet always quick to brown-nose, was horticulturally impaired. She wouldn't know a genus from a genius.

But she has a designer's eye for beauty. And that's what caused the problem. Rhus Venenata is beautiful in its proper season. There are seven to thirteen gorgeously red leaves per stem.

My sister, who has never been stingy, picked a WHOLE BOUQUET of these woodland beauties and presented the nosegay to her teacher. Have you ever noticed that dilatory students often have feather-headed teachers?

This teacher received the posy with open arms (sleeveless), hugged it to her chest ( low neck-line), and embraced the aroma as the leaves tickled her nose, before placing the posy in a vase on her desk. The teacher wasn't stingy, either. She invited the whole class to come admire these splendid leaves.

The result of my sister's generous gift was not good. It did not earn her the "A" she hoped to receive. Indeed, it sent the teacher and most of the class home for an extended stay while they dealt with a bad case of sumac poisoning.

Should you ever develop an interest in leaves, I would advise you to avoid Rhus Venenata. Perhaps, fruit would be a better intellectual pursuit. Certainly, if my sister had chosen a nice, juicy, red apple, she'd still be the teacher's pet.
Scratchy Stuff © 2005 Chaeli Sullivan