The Leaf Pile

It’s amazing how a scent can evoke the sharpest, deepest memories. Violet reminds me of my great aunt Nina, and pungent autumn leaves have a way of catapulting me back to my New England childhood.   My brother and I would spend hours constructing mountains of leaves and equal amounts of time diving in said mountains.  I was recently thinking about how I longed for my kids to experience some elements of a suburban childhood – but then realized that many organic experiences take place spontaneously, amongst little friends, instead of in isolated yards.

Both are beautiful. Different, but beautiful. 

Every day at nursery school pick-up, Adrian, his peers and big sister Lucia are drawn like magnets to the leaf piles on the church lawns.  The children eventually all emerge with grass-stained knees, leaves in every crevice and giant smiles.  We have a bit of a walk home from school which sometimes seems to take forever.  Adrian loves the satisfying crunch of a huge, crisp leaf beneath his feet.  Lucia walks in circles, creating a perfect bouquet of crimson red, burnt orange and bright yellow leaves.

Like most children, my kids have a natural connection to the earth.  Their infectious enthusiasm and desire to explore serve as reminders to slow down and celebrate each season.  Once again, my kiddos (and their beloved leaves) remind me that right now is what matters most