We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
Some years we can have roses in bloom in the garden on Thanksgiving, in Yankeeland, especially if they are well-protected by a house, wall, or protection from cold wind. These sent in by a reader in CT, photos taken yesterday. Blooms among the falling leaves - there's a metaphor hiding in there.
As you said, a metaphor in there, amidst the dead leaves.
Then there are the fungi, the toadstools thriving in the litter, the disintegration of leaves once full. Ambulance chasing lawyers are awful, yes, but what of those others whose bills get paid because of others' disintegration.