Every autumn, landscaping workers descend upon the earth with blowers roaring, attacking red, yellow, and orange leaves as though they were evidence of some shameful truth that must be obliterated. The battle will not end until first snowfall, when snow will become the next Enemy. Every autumn, the tree outside our temple gifts us with a gradual snowfall of tiny yellow leaves, which cling to our shoes and accompany us inside, creating a carpet of yellow on the sanctuary floor. Years ago we stopped trying to rake outside or vacuum inside. No battle, no enemy. We just open our arms and welcome autumn into our prayers