The Lesson of Leaves

What else can elicit such proclamations of beauty and still be something that hold endless moments of fun, regardless of age? Leaves. But not just any leaves. Only those of amber hue and russet red, of those that no longer contain life, but are embracing their death.

A few weeks ago, Matt and I focused on getting our front yard raked. Growing up we didn’t have leaves at my house, we would go to town and import them from my grandfather’s yard, of which he had plenty to spare.

With the beautiful giant in our own yard {planted ages longer ago than I even know} we now have an abundance of leaves of our own. Ave joyously clutches handfuls, throwing them in the air above her, at her brothers and sister, at mommy and daddy. I watched her and her daddy roll in the piles of leaves, bigger than any snow bank we’ve seen in recent years. Shrieks of laughter filling the air.



And I felt and thought and knew so many things in those minutes of watching them.

Beauty is not something that we can cling to, storing away for another day. { <---Click to tweet } It must be shared…tossed about carelessly in the air, it must be enjoyed with every one of our senses, rolled around in. Ferreted away, it will dry, becoming brittle, turning once again to dust.