Falling Leaves

Happy Fall everyone - are you as ready as I am.  It's so nice to be able to open the windows and doors for a bit before the sun starts heating up again.  It's been a busy week here and the only writing I've done lately are these weekly stories.  I need someone to light a fire under me.  lol

Enjoy

Brenda Fraser opened the front door and breathes in the scents she loved.  Fall was upon them and everything was different.  No longer did the languid scents of summer blooms past their prime fill the air.  Now, the air seemed cleaner and crisper, scents of cinnamon and spice assaulted her senses.  Anticipation of cooler mornings and evenings and warm sunshine filled afternoons made her smile.  This was her favorite time one year with one exception. 

She loved how Mother Nature painted the landscape – the colors were beautiful until they fell to the ground.  Not only did she not like the starkness of the bare trees but the beautiful colors didn’t look so beautiful on the ground, not to mention the musty odor left behind after a rain.  They lived on a wooded lot and once the leaves fell a thick carpet blanketed their yard.  Brenda adhered to the theory they should be raked and burned; it’s what her parents always did. It added to the allure of fall and was as much a part of fall as pumpkins. Jackson, however, was of the mind that they acted as a protective layer for the earth and should be left.

Every year, she asked for his help in rounding up the thousands of leaves that carpeted the ground and every year, he found other things to occupy his time. He said cleaning out the shutters and fireplace were more important than raking leaves. She even tried enlisting the help of their son to no avail.  He took his father’s theory and provided no help – chopping wood, etc. seemed a manlier thing than raking leaves.

And so, Brenda uttered a big sigh as she closed the front door.  The wind was up and she knew it was only a matter of time until those beautiful colors would be on the ground.  Later  today, if the wind died down, she’d get out the rake and begin the chore of marshaling the leaves into piles. 

The sun had grown low in the sky when Brenda was finished.  She went to the shed and uttered a few choice words when the box with the trash bags sat there empty, right next to the fireplace ashes.

With hands on hips and fire in her eyes, she sought out Jackson.

“You used the last trash bag for the ashes, now what am I supposed to use for the leaves.”

“Calm down, honey, I planned on going to get some as soon as I’m done here.”

“And when is that, when it’s dark.”

“Honey, I’ll take care of it.”

Brenda was not thrilled with his answer.  ‘The hell with him’, she thought.  ‘I’ll just burn the leaves, rather than bag them.’  Having no idea how to do this in a safe manner, she merely threw a lighted match to one of the piles.  As the piled burned, she raked more of the piles to the fire and was pleased with herself when the wind suddenly returned with a vengeance. The flames climbed high into the air and the smoke enveloped her until she was overcome and stepped back, trying to breathe some clean air. 

Jackson came running and yelled to their son to grab the hose.  They were able to contain the fire without further incident.Brenda was still coughing and breathing hard when Jackson began scolding her.

“Don’t you dare scold me,” she told him. 

“Didn’t I tell you I’d take care of it?”

“Yes,”

“Well, why didn’t you wait”?

“I wanted it done and finished.”

“Is it finished now?”

“No.”

“No, it’s not and now it’s more a mess than before.  I’ll take care of it in the morning.”

“It’s supposed to rain tomorrow and it will be more of a mess.”

“Brenda, let it go.” Jackson told her. 

But Brenda, being Brenda couldn’t let it go and Jackson, being Jackson, had the solution if she didn’t obey. She got in the car and headed to the store to purchase trash bags.  When she returned, Jackson was standing at the door.

“Go upstairs right now,” he ordered.

“I won’t,” she said, knowing full well what that order entailed.

“Suit yourself.”  He took hold of her arm and pulled her toward the kitchen table.

“No, no, no Jackson.  Peter is home.”

“No, he isn’t, I sent him out to get pizza.  There will be plenty of time to take care of this before he gets back.  Now lean over and get ready to take your medicine.”

“But Jackson,”

“No, there are no butts, only yours.  I’m going to set fire to it the way you set fire to the leaves. When I’m finished, you’ll be wishing you had waited for me.”

He delivered several hard smacks to her behind before pulling down her jeans.  He reached for the hated bamboo spoon and really lit into Brenda.  She was dancing a jig as he plied that wooden implement across her bare behind. After every fourth swat across her cheeks, he would deliver one to her thighs and she would howl her displeasure.  Jackson admired his handiwork on her bottom – there were red splotches on both cheeks and her thighs exhibited his handiwork too.  Jackson took a breather and rubbed his hand across his wife’s heated backside to calculate how much more he should deliver. He was just about to begin the spanking anew when he heard a car in the driveway.  He quickly stopped and helped Brenda to stand.  He reached down and pulled up her jeans over her now swollen behind and pushed her toward the stairs with a departing last swat on her behind.

“Go freshen up now, Peter’s home with dinner.  We’ll talk later.  By the way, you did a nice job on the leaves.”  If Brenda had something in her hand right then she would have thrown it at him.

See you later for more Aimless Ramblings.