Birch Scrolls

Behind the house, there are two kinds of white birch. One is the papery kind that sheds scrolls which look to me like ancient texts or musical scores. Its leaves are fewer and larger, and they fall much earlier. The other has a trunk that’s more rough and grooved. Its leaves are much smaller; there are thousands and thousands of them, and they fall like pale-yellow snowflakes well into December, swirling in the dry frosty air. This is preceded by a generous shedding of seed bits; this year, the ground beneath was at least half an inch deep with them, the heaviest amount we’ve seen. What this portends, or the message it sends, I do not pretend to know. Winter is here. May my ignorance be covered with snow.