The leaf: Chosen because I come from a strong family with viking and highlander blood. The oak tree seemed appropriate. However, being the baby of the family, I am nearly the last one standing, living out west, away from the rest. I am the tumbling leaf. I am the leaf in a state of change. I am colorful. I am at the whims of the winds and the patterns of life.
The forest in autum has wet earth, sometimes crunchy and brittle, other times mushy and giving off the scent of mushrooms and rotting leaves. The soil is very dark. The leaves falling upon it are very bright.
You want to take home every leaf -
If you rake the leaves, you must jump in the pile.
Take you camera, store up some waxed paper to savor them year-round.
You don't need a flashlight in an autumn forest. It is radiant enough.
And as you walk by, the trees move in the breeze and it's like a colorful audience cheering you on -
I come alive in the chill air and the colorful surroundings.
It is my camouflage.
And, upon occasion, I become the autumn forest -