It’s hard not to feel happy and sentimental when the breeze picks up just enough to make it rain leaves. Only one hits me in the shoulder – wait, hits is the wrong word. It seeks me out in the hope that I’ll carry it away. The rest land around me in a dreamy manner as if it were planned that way. And the green heron laughs behind me.

I have to stop in the sun. It’s a beautiful day and the light is warming. The birds are enjoying this day more than I am, but barely. There is a quiet rejoicing. The nuthatches and chipmunks are beside themselves as they eat the seeds and nuts scattered on the fence rails by the rangers. I drink the air, I taste the view, I inhale the season. Is there any smell lovelier than fallen leaves?

It’s raining leaves again, and it is time for me to go.

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