Let Me Count The Leaves
Photo 23. Paris.
There was a photo opportunity in Tokyo that I missed…a photo illustrating just how seriously the Japanese take their jobs. It wasn’t the corporate salarymen (sararīman) and women (kyariaūman) streaming up from the subway in the mornings, with their dark suits and blank faces. No, it was down on the platform: the guards on the trains, peering out from their special little windows, with their tiny flags, and their uniforms worn with such pride.
Which is not to say that we regard our jobs any less seriously, nor that—despite not having peaked caps or blowing whistles—we don’t have our own version of a uniform; our carefully curated ensembles: our statements to the world of who we’d like to be thought we are.
And so it follows that we have no reason to assume (as we might) that this French leaf sweeper—this Public Park Presentation Patroller—is any less invested in their role. According to one, seemingly reliable, source1, there are 110,000 trees in Paris. And—according to another such source2—your average mature tree produces around 22,000 leaves a year. Every autumn then, there are 2.5 billion Parisian leaves to be raked and removed. Give or take.
Now—in a purely amateur capacity—I can claim some experience with gathering autumn leaves. And I can tell you this: it is a Sisyphean task (that Greek guy being punished by the gods, pushing a rock up a hill every day). Made worse, I suggest, because as fast as you can gather the bastards up, just as many are falling, behind you.
It is soul-destroying. A task that puts you in mind of Woody Allen’s observation: Eternity is an awfully long time, especially towards the end.
However, philosopher Mark Rowlands offers an interesting perspective3. What if, he proposes, Sisyphus enjoyed his task? If he actually—much to the fury of the gods—took pride from achieving his goal every day? Much as we might take pride from knocking off another session at the gym?
Through that lens, our French leaf sweeper is no longer suffering the unrelenting, underpaid, misery—the apparent futility—of their task, working for the man; but, instead, making a real, and meaningful, contribution to society. Through that lens they don’t, after all, hate this time of year, hate their job, struggle to make it to work every day.
Rather, they love their city. And raking up leaves is how they show it; how they show the world:
How much do I love Paris? Let me count the leaves…
One more thought from an amateur leaf raker:
When confronting a drift, a pile, a multitude of leaves like this, you begin to appreciate how unlikely it is that you’ll ever win Lotto:
Your ticket is just one leaf. And yet Lotto NZ tell us that the Powerball winning leaf will be picked at random from a pile of over 38 million leaves.
Photo (below) from Rosemary of raked leaves on Nami Island, in South Korea (see her comment)
Next week: # Me
https://storymaps.arcgis.com/stories/9d8204f3ffa24547a5510c36ed4445fc. I used the London Plane.
In his book The Happiness of Dogs, that I’ve referenced previously.
Thanks to Mary Wilson for sharing the ‘and so ends…’ image.
So funny - especially given the French propensity for strikes and protest against the man! But, I do remember your advice to me each year we worked to gather leaves under the enormous Pin Oak at The Brow - you just have to pick each leaf up once - just once! Followed just once for the billion others!
IMG_2001.jpeg I don't know how to add this photo of leaves being swept into a heart shape, by the groundsman on Nami Island, in South Korea. A gorgeous small, 'walk-around-able' island with hundreds of stunning trees, which drop their leaves, as you describe so eloquently, and they are swept up, regularly, so visitors don't have to look at how 'ugly' that would be (!), but carefully into heart shapes, which creates pathways of beautiful artwork - heartwork, ha!