Its 3:35pm so it means its time. The yellow that hovered across the sky through summer has landed on the leaves. The leaves landed on the wet road and met the other leaves who kissed many colors of orange. Some people think its cold enough to wear sleeping bag jackets while some wear a long sleeved shirt. The cats sit in the window getting the sun, their world hasn’t really changed yet.
I wish I had a tool that let me seek out the brightest and most colorful tree. But then that tool wouldn’t allow me to discover the others while I search for that tree. I do proudly say the one outside my house may be the most vivid orange and red I have ever seen. A woman sheepishly snapped a photo on her way to work. She saw me see her take the photo and we had an unspoken exchange. “It’s beautiful huh”. The next morning the rain carried the leaves down to the ground and they look like a messy artist who had been painting the trees left splatters everywhere. An artist so carefree and generous that they didn’t care where this color pallet landed. As long as it was for everyone to see. It was their duty to make sure people looked up from their walks with their heads in phones and just stop and look at the color. Even if it was to take said photos on their phones and continue on their way, boosting the saturation and adding filters for everyone to click “like”. The next hour or two will be a sporadic collection of likes of those around the world who have never seen such hue.
These leaves are then carried inside, onto the worn apartment corridor carpet. Not as social in here, as the leaves can barely make out the next, one or two steps higher than them. “Hey, its warmer in here huh”. “Yes, even more so up here on the third step”. “Oh you are new, you just come in?” “Yes, on a boot with this yellow fella”.
I wonder how many leaves go into the ocean. Cause that is an adventure, from a still quiet yard. A blast of air and rain took them over the roof and into the front garden. Then the next day another gust carried into the gutter. From there it was very dark and lots of pauses. Meeting many interesting and not so nice characters until a gush pushed them out underwater into the salty cool.
I remember a photo where my dear friend heather and I had a leaf fight. June 2003 and my friend Rachel who was a budding photographer snapped it. We were I want to find it, maybe she has a copy?
I loved how traces of leaf would stick to woolen sweaters after an adventure as a kid. It really was the mark of fun that had been had.
My possum Peter used to like touching the leaves on the front grass. Gently treading on them, one footstep at a time. Then a car would drive nearby and he wouldn’t be as gentle and crunch across the rest and up the bare tree. Hiding in the sticks and branches. He looked below him from up above and the car drove away leaving the quiet in its place.