If Only Leaves Had Value
By Paul Greeley
It’s that time of year again.
When Mother Nature turns trees into eruptions of color just before they disrobe for the winter.
That time when people ‘oooh’ and ‘aaah’ over how those boring green leaves suddenly turn beautiful shades of red and orange just before they die and fall to the ground where they become a major, worthless nuisance.
Somewhere, I hope there are teams of experts working on solutions to problems to benefit mankind---an end to cancer, a cure for the common cold, and what the Kardashians actually do for a living.
I’d like to add one more item to that list—find a way to make leaves valuable.
I’ve got a couple ideas they can experiment on.
Everybody loves the smell of burning leaves. Why couldn’t Martha Stewart come up with a cologne or room deodorizer that could capture the smell of smoldering leaves?
What about dipping the leaves into hot oil, add salt and sell them as leaf chips?
Surely, leaves must have some nutritional value, so couldn’t we use them in salads and on sandwiches as a lettuce substitute. Let’s face it, if we can make lettuce taste good, leaves should be no problem.
If leaves were worth something, think how that would change the world!
More tress will get planted not so much for shade or beauty, but for the revenue source they’ve become.
Instead of blowing your leaves onto your neighbor’s yard when he’s not looking, you’ll be secretly sucking his over to your yard.
People will chase leaves blowing in the wind with the same fervor they chase dollar bills down the street.
They’ll be more room in landfills for worthy trash like outdated cell phones, record players, election signs, film cameras, encyclopedias, cassette players, bell bottoms, and landline phones.
Busloads of tourists would trek to New England to see piles of leaves with the same fascination as people now go to Ft Knox or the US Mint to see mounds of money.
Lighting your cigar with a big leaf will replace lighting cigars with hundred bills as the ultimate expression of wealth.
If you’re falling behind in your bills, you’ll tell the bill collector that it’s almost fall and you’re expecting a bumper crop of leaves this year.
Nobody will burn leaves any more. That aroma associated with fall will disappear into folklore—remember when people burned leaves?
People will hold signs that say, ‘will work for leaves’.
Banks will look to take advantage---deposit your leaves and get a new toaster.
People will give trees names like cash-cow, money-maker, or bark o’ bucks.
When people mow leaves with mulching mowers, they’ll think of it as changing leaves into smaller denominations.
And if leaves had value, when your kids ask you for money and you say, ‘you think money grows on trees’, they’ll say, ‘well yeah, dad’.