Leaf fall and legend

 Leaves are falling in the woods around Stone Mountain.

The naturalist in me wants to hear about marcescence — how some deciduous trees hold on to their dead leaves through winter while others shed them.

Instead, I’m thinking of a Cherokee legend about when the earth was young. The people who were here before us said that all the trees were assigned a seven-day vigil, much like the trial that Cherokee boys faced as a rite of passage. All the trees were told to keep watch. They would get sleepy, but when they were exhausted, their medicine would come to them.

Only a few made it to the end. The pine, cedar, spruce, laurel, holly and their brethren are evergreen, a reminder that endurance is rewarded.

What to make of it? I love the legend, and I am amused that one voice in my head prevailed over another.

I’d say my sense of place is maturing, developing, ripening. At least I hope that’s true.

• Note: On the outside chance you really do need an explanation of marcescence, see “And baffled by the beeches,” Feb. 7, 2023.