How can it be valuable when there’s so many dead leaves? Unless you mean to say they become exceedingly rare, in which case the ecosystem is screwed.
That rules out the onvious… plant a fuck ton of Japanese maples. Whatever it is giving them value, the little weed shaped leaves are guna be top dog.
Gotta have something growing under the Elms and real Maples. Shiiit if the Japanese Maples are putting out 20:1 leaves of the big leafers and the big leafers are a buck then I might be better off planting 5 Lil Japanese Maples per big leafer.
Really tho the money is in the purple leaf Maples. Those fuckers make it rain leaves, are dwarves of pure Maples but still bigger than Japanese (idk if those are even real maple trees). Best of all tho, all their leaves are the same size as pure maple trees.
I’d wish you a good harvest this fall!
The price of rakes and yard vacuums would skyrocket. City parks would be fenced off and guarded by armed militia the way natural diamond deposits are. In cartoons, those giant paper yard waste bags would be the new sack with dollar sign printed on them. Everyone would suddenly hate the Toronto Maple Leafs (oh they already do? never mind that one)
Immediate inflation is what would happen.
It would have a devastating effect on the eco system, since many flora and fauna depend on those leaves (for shelter, to feed on, to hunt in, to lay eggs on), and many more flora and fauna depend on those that depend on the leaves, and capitalism doesn’t give a fuck so the leaves would promptly be removed from the environment by one corporation or another so that they can profit, and we’d be fucked even further.
In short time the only trees allowed would be on corporate property. They would grow rows of one type of gmo trees with maximized leaf growing ability. They would use leaves to pay wage slaves to harvest leaves.
They would use leaves to pay wage slaves to harvest leaves.
Wage Slave: Please sir, my family is starving.
Corpo: Silence! You know the punishment for theft.
Wage Slave: But sir! In a single 14 hour shift, me and my coworkers bring in an average of 1.2 tons of dead leaves a day. It costs but a handful of leaves to feed my children, and a small paper bag to house them.
Corpo: Ah, so you know of your costs, yes. But you think not of the costs for those who would pay you. My costs are numerous, and if I am to pay you, and pay still more of your coworkers, they must first be met, and met in full.
WS: You are right, sir, of course. Forgive me, for I know not the burdens beared by those cursed with fortune.
C: Then allow me to educate you! Your coworkers and you bring to me 1.2 tons of leaves everyday. Every day! Do you know the cost of storing 1.2 tons of leaves?
WS: I have never had the leaves necessary to warrant storage, sir. What a burden this must be.
C: A burden, yes! And what’s more! If I am to leave my leaves unattended, who is to say the likes of you won’t come in the night to take what I have rightfully earned?
WS: Another thought a stranger to me, sir, for I have naught the possessions to fear theft, save for which I have thusly stolen from you.
C: Indeed! And lucky you should feel to be worry free of thievery! And finally. Why is it, do you think, that not everyone grows their own trees, farms their own leaves?
WS: This I do know, sir! This is the law of the land!
C: The law of the land, precisely. But the law does not avail itself cheaply to those who have; nay, for those burdened with the curse of fortune, justice is bought, and bought with deep pockets. For the cost of justice far exceeds the cost of storage, the cost of vigilance, even the cost of labor (which, as a laborer yourself, I need not remind you is exorbitantly high!).
WS: I have never thought to purchase a law before.
C: And it is my wish that you never shall. Great are the troubles of those forced into my position. This is why you must toil, why the days must grow longer and the suppers fewer and further in between, why those who have must always have, and those who don’t must never receive; lest you be faced with the ugly wrath of capitalism.
WS: Capitalism! Gods, anything but that!
C: So you see now, Wage Slave, why you must accept this punishment for reaching out to the forbidden fruit.
WS: Please, sir, a decade of unpaid labor is but a gift to someone like me, who was but this close to falling into the clutches of prosperity!
C: Go, then, and sow for me now what I shall later have you reap.
WS: May I sow the same field you have my children working?
C: No.
WS: Thank you!
