Playing Outside

It is a gorgeous late October day. Warm and sunny, with birds chirping in the backyard, it is especially fulfilling after the preceding rainy, cool days. I chase a woodpecker away from attacking the side of my house. I pick up sticks that will soon be kindling in the fireplace. I look for chipmunks as I head back to the compost bin. And I savor it. It feels good deep in my bones.

But the best part is raking up leaves. The way they crackle and crunch, releasing their delicious scent, full of the promise of the rich soil they will become... the way they unleash memories of scooping them up, filling bushel baskets, jumping into their heaped up piles... the way they skitter across pavement to startle us, making us think we're not alone.

I used to play with leaves for hours. I remember making soups from them in my sand pail as I played in the stream that ran through the neighborhood. I added stones and stirred with a stick and really thought that that was how "stone soup" was made.

In both spring and fall I would chain the maple leaves together to adorn myself with bracelets and necklaces and crowns. As I played, sometimes rustling noises from deep inside a pile of leaves would worry me enough to make me burst into a run.

Today I am using my tiny wheelbarrow that is starting to rust through and squeaks very loudly as we go up and down the yard. I am playing with leaves. I am savoring the beauty of the day. And I am feeling so thankful to be able to play outside.