November 16, 2010
It is so beautiful outside right now. In front of our door is a massive maple that each night carpets our steps and street with a uniformly golden yellow mass of leaves. It's kind of magical, this moment before the leaves dry up, turn beige, and crunch underfoot. Every time I look at them I have the irresistible urge to collect them, armfuls of them, and spread them inside the house like runners and garlands. Sometimes, I do just that, and it is amazing to me that to this day, even though I know full well that one or two days later they will lose that soft malleability and turn brittle and crumbly in my fingers, I am still so, so disappointed every time it happens.
The children, of course, have the opposite response. The love the crash and hiss and crackle of dessicated leaf piles, running through at top speed to get the full effect. In a few days, I will take the camera outside again, this time to try to capture the boundless glee on their faces as they smash their way through yet another bank of noise.