"Starflowers, Green, yellow and tan, Stars of the Boreal
Forest – Earth Beacons in the hazy twilight."
Leaves that have fallen can evoke interesting, unusual and
memorable experiences. It was during October of 1971, when I was
courting Charlotte who was living and working in Milwaukee, that
I sent her three pressed leaves. I had been doing an activity
with my junior high science students whereby they brought to
class some colorful or unusually-shaped fallen leaves they had
collected and pressed between the pages of a magazine or catalog
for a few days.
Several pieces of various-colored poster board had been cut
into 8x8-inch pieces and then the leaves were simply carefully
sandwiched between the poster board and transparent contact shelf
paper that I had purchased at a hardware store. Most of the
results were quite beautiful and my guess is that some of these
simple art pieces still exist.
The three that I sent to Charlotte, and which she saved, were
a single leaf of a starflower, one from a red dogwood, and the
best, all of the leaves from a starflower with their fascinating
star shape and light gold color. It was on the back of the third
one that I had written the simple poem, dated October 3, 1971.
It’s quite amazing how perfectly preserved all of the leaves have
been, including their color.
Recently I have been experimenting with my little digital
camera, trying to capture the delicate back-lighting on colored
leaves of red oak, American beech, sugar maple and others. The
device I have been using is quite simple and inexpensive. A
cardboard box, about 18x18x12-inches with the sides and bottom
intact, was spray painted on the inside with flat black paint.
I take the box outdoors and set it on a bench in such a manner
that I can prop my subject to be photographed in the opening of
the box. You have to play around a little with the angle of the
sun and how it back-lights the colored leaf which is then
photographed against the black interior of the box. This simple
method also works nicely with spring wildflowers, with the
smaller black box simply set on the ground behind the nicely
sun-lighted plant.
It’s not difficult to become somewhat mesmerized watching the
leaves float, flutter and sail downward to the ground especially
now that many of the birches, sugar maples, ashes, basswoods and
other trees have lost most of their leaves. Gradually the woods
are opening up and presenting an entirely new and really quite
refreshing view of the tree silhouettes.
Countless millions of layers of corky cells, called abscission
layers, which form at the bases of leaf stalks, have helped to
usher in the "quiet" season. One by one, the deciduous
trees have lost their leaves. The growth of the abscission layer
cells cuts off the food and water supply of the leaves, which
then gradually turn color and fall from the tree.
The real shape and character of the trees, standing in silent
readiness for winter, now decorate the landscape in all
directions. The least little breeze flows through them, rustling
few leaves, making few sounds. The countryside, it seems, is
almost too quiet at times. But then, this pleasant change of
scenery is welcomed by many. It will trigger an influx of
different birds and will help to expose views that were hidden
all summer by the canopy of leaves.
The tremendous complexities and interrelationships within a
forest territory can be understood and appreciated to a greater
degree if one stops to consider an outwardly simple plant
community, such as a grassland. A study of such an area showed
that nearly six million grass plants grew in one acre. These
plants are the food base for all of the other organisms of the
community. For example, more than 700,000 herbivores, mostly
insects, were supported in this acre of grassland.
One step higher in the food pyramid, about 350,000 carnivores,
including beetles, ants and spiders, depended on the herbivorous
insects for food. At the top of the food chain within this acre
of ground, were three carnivores – two moles and a meadowlark.
Their very existence was dependent upon the energy produced by
the six million grass plants.
Move from an acre of grassland to an acre of woods, and you
will begin to sense the astounding number of members in a single
community, all part of the great food pyramid, food chain, web of
life, or whatever you wish to call it. And this is where my
thoughts are today, at the beginning of the quiet time of
November. As people, we adjust quickly and easily to the
environmental changes brought by the change of seasons. But for
many animals, there now begins a four or five month period when
food and shelter may be at a premium, and when their very lives
are in great jeopardy from day to day.
Something deep inside nudges me at this time of year. It
wasn’t too long ago that our ancestors had to take winter much
more seriously. They, too, faced continuing perils until they
could welcome back the warmth of spring and a return to their
gardens and fields.
Enjoy the quiet time of November and some of the beautifully
colored fallen leaves that decorate the ground beneath the naked
trees.
A weathered red oak leaf, backlighted by the early morning sun
Beech leaves show a variety of patterns and colors.
This column appeared in the Door County Advocate
on 11/04/2003.
© Copyright 2003 Roy Lukes. All rights reserved.
