swardraws
haley
Does anybody ever outgrow the autumnal desire to play among the dry, fallen leaves?
It’s an odd paradox. Autumn is about the slow creep of inevitability, the acknowledgment of the coming acoustic paralysis of winter. And yet it sparks in us all a child’s yearning to make a wonderful mess. A raked pile of dead, crunchy, spider-ridden leaves is more near the Fountain of Youth than anything Ponce de Leon ever found.
Give into it. Go outside, play among the leaves. Hurl them into the air and make them dance. Do it now. Do it now.
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