Neon

May 2, 2020 2:46pm

by Emily Snedecor Knowlton

The leaves are smaller today than they ever will be again, diminutive versions of what we think of when we think of leaves. If we touched them, they’d maybe be slightly stretchy. They are neon, glowing against the peach morning, such temporary and odd shades of green. The branches offer them to the sun. The leaves absorb light and expand, absorb fluid and expand. They close in on themselves in the chill of the moment after the sun rises, when the last of yesterday’s warmth is sucked out by vacuum. They are wholly occupied by the self-absorbing pursuit of their own rapid growth. It’s their only job.

The young leaf’s personal phosphorescence is in direct contrast to our dull mammal bodies. We are also self-absorbed but we don’t glow. We all start out soft and green, our only job to soak in nutrients and grow big. Vibrant, selfish, pure. Our forms start with no scars, maybe a dimpled ear, a birthmark at the base of the neck or stem. 

We passively take their oxygen and aggressively plant sidewalks on top of the root systems that feed them. In the name of play, we let our children sever the leaves from their mothers, and tear them. We want our kids to experience the natural world. Eventually, leaves deepen in color and overlap and flutter through hot, moist days. We grow up, and, with sticky summer fingers, yank the leaves from the trees. We orbit trunks with our blankets and snacks as shade shifts through the day.

Leaves are torn down in storms, blown upside down and convex. Some get less of what they need than they should, some get bugs. We recline in their shade, oblivious to them, but taking advantage. Brittle air advances and the leaves bend to it. Their color drains, they release themselves from branches, leaving mother tree behind. We crinkle and crackle them, scoop them up and shower them over ourselves, natural confetti, let them drift into the gutter. Snow buries them, rots them slippery. They cycle back into the soil, they feed their mother so she can make new ones, her purpose to grow slowly, imperceptibly expanding.