We went out, in the blowing wind, to find six leaves. It was a kindergarten homework assignment. The kind of homework I like. The kind of homework I understand.

We found our quota, quick as a wink. The rest of the trip was trading them out for new ones. Red, yellow, green, brown, pink; speckled, torn, broken, crisp, supple. We looked at whole branches of leaves, saw trees that were almost naked, trees that were still wearing all their clothes.

We saw seed pods, brown and crunchy, and fallen bird’s nests. It was so windy that our hair blew in our faces and so dry that the dirt blew in our eyes.

The cats followed us, enjoying our little excursion, wondering why we felt the need to carry off so many things: the leaves, the forgotten shovel, the last of the tomatoes.

We wrinkled our noses at certain smells, saw that the stream is totally dry, hoped for rain to replenish the lake.

We investigated the sunflowers, saw how the seeds are growing, wondered if we could roast them and salt them and enjoy them all winter. We thought about pumpkins and costumes and apple pie.

We went inside, hungry, thirsty, inspired.

This is the good stuff of life.