Anja Murray: Learn to leave — and love — the leaves

Clearing leaves from open ground beneath trees makes very little sense: the leaf mold that they break down into nourishes next year’s growth of trees and spring flowers

A late autumn day in St Stephen's Green in Dublin. Picture: Brian Lawless/PA

Windy gusts have been doing their work of loosening the last of leaves from overhead branches — swirling yellows, rust-brown, and ochre-tinted leaves in the air before sweeping them into colourful drifts around field edges, town parks and tree-lined city streets. Each mottled golden canopy has its own palette of pigments on display, and each swathe of colourfully crinkled fallen leaves its own reassuring blend of warm amber, cinnamon, and vivid rusty brown.

Crisp dry fallen leaves are one of the nicest things about this time of year. Most of us have the luxury of winter woollies and waterproof jackets to insulate ourselves against the elements. Trees, on the other hand, have to be a little more self-sufficient in how they cope with winter weather. For most deciduous trees, the effort required to sustain leaves through the darker months is more than the gains to be had from photosynthesis when sunlight is so scant.