Perfection

I went looking in our backyard for the perfect Japanese maple leaf, one that could be flattened and preserved between the pages of a book. The perfect leaf was one that had to have changed color completely and evenly, would not have any visible blemishes, whose tips were not dry and brittle, and whose shape was symmetrically pleasing.

Among the scores of leaves that I examined, there were very few that could pass most of the strict guidelines I had imposed. Some were close to being completely red, except for the slightest tinge of brown at the tip. If there was even a minuscule hint of brownness, it was rejected. Others were shapely, with perfect tips, but the color would be uneven. Still others had the right coloration and no brown tips, but the body of the leaf was speckled.

So finally I gave up looking and settled on just five leaves that came to represent the best our Japanese maples had to offer. I have concluded that if I wanted a perfect maple leaf, I’d have to wait for one perfect green and unblemished leaf to turn a glorious red, millimeter by millimeter, over a long period of time, and then pluck it at the exact moment when the color is uniform throughout, and before the tips begin to turn brown and dry.

Perfection is a difficult thing to find.