Golden

Today we played in the leaves. An absolutely glorious sea of golden leaves that three majestic trees dumped there just for us. Those trees live in this little nook on the apartment complex property that Anne Shirley would have named something utterly whimsical because it is a hidden spacial treasure, walled in by fences on three sides and, on the fourth, both guarded and gated by a wall of trees that provide access through a small arching window in the brush. It has been our sanctuary this summer, will give us virgin snow to play in this winter, and I anticipate a pink fairyland this coming spring. But today it gave us an ocean of fallen leaves to crunch.
And crunch them we did: chuuh, chuuh, chuh. We practically waded through them! Curly Sue gathered a hat full, with delicate brown veins so perfect they might have been printed on weathered cardstock. Little Lou full asleep on my shoulder soaking in the honey mellow autumn light. Then I watched my bearded hubby splash through the leaves toward home with a toddler on his shoulders, waving orange maple flags. And once again, I was happy.