Over the past few months, since the trees have come into leaf along Piney Woods Church Road, I have been noticing Evidence for Elves. As I glance at the saplings of sweetgum and tulip poplar that line the roadway, I can quickly find a dozen leaves with holes in them, and fascicles (bundles) of loblolly pine needles suspended from each hole. Clearly, something has been putting a lot of energy into using pine needles as needles, poking holes in leaves with them and then letting them hang suspended, like a half-hearted attempt at an Andy Goldsworthy sculpture. The prosaic explanation, of course, is that the wind dislodges the pine needles from high up in the trees, and the velocity they obtain as the fall due to the acceleration caused by gravity is sufficient for them to pierce holes through any leaves they might encounter on their downward trajectory. The result is mysterious in a relatively subdued way — hardly akin to Stonehenge, and not overly photogenic, for that matter (the image below is my best attempt). Still, I find the windfall model entirely unsatisfying. It is far too prosaic. I much prefer the image of elves wandering the countryside, bored because no one believes in them or pays attention to them anymore, filling their spare afternoon hours by poking holes in leaves with bundles of needles, leaving their handiwork behind as a sign of their passage.
