Talking Leaves

These delicate sycamore leaves jumped up and waved to me along the bridge at Misssouri's Mule Shoe Conservation Area a few days ago. As I took pictures, I was reminded of Sequoyah and his "talking leaves," referring to pages of written language. What if these sycamores could talk? What stories would they tell?

There were a lot of leaves there, actually, and as a matter of fact, they were in a talkative mood that day. As many in the area have noted, it is dry this year. Hot and dry. And the Little Niangua River, flowing through here has provided cool refreshment for both wildlife and people for centuries. But as you may be able to see in the pictures, this talkative sycamore is young; its jabbering stories are limited to the traditions of its elders (sycamores as well as others) surrounding it.

There were stories of previous droughts when the river's flow slowed but never stopped, floods that rearranged the river, adventurous youth, foolishness of generations, and, like the underlying riverbed itself, wisdom.  

Well, it happens that one of the others on the bank of the little winding river was once the manager of the Mule Shoe Ranch, Robert Arnett, or "Bob" as a lot of folks know him. I know him as my hubby, and, as I knew he would if I waited long enough, he augmented some of the gibbering sycamore stories.

"A lot of water has passed under that bridge since then," he says motioning to the concrete slab lined with young saplings. "Of course that bridge wasn't here back then. It was just a gravel bar." Tales of the old days on the ranch began meandering through the evening, a river of words cutting through the dwindling sunlight and birdsong, carrying thoughts and memories, conjuring pictures in my mind of days before we met.

Horseback rides, hay hauling adventures, children exploring, work, farmers retrieving machinery after dark (Lucky he didn't get shot! He really should have called first.) 

I listened to the stories of the trees, the birds, the rocks, and my sweetheart as the sun fell to the horizon. Then, I gathered them up like precious gems and stored them away to look at and share another day.