Yesterday, the kids and I spent some time playing out in the front yard at my in-laws’. Phoebe had collected some pretty leaves, and I found myself joining her. Fall comes a bit later here than at home, so the big maples in the yard were still leafy and bright. I kept finding interesting individual leaves, with interesting patterns and color arrangements. Of course I had to photograph them. First individually, then in groups. Before you knew it, I realized I wanted to spread them out and arrange them by color.¹
I was channeling Andy Goldsworthy, one of my favorite artists.
I found I had to hunt around to find more of the brightly-hued freshly-fallen leaves among the crinkled older leaves, which had turned a fairly uniform shade of brown as they dried. I paced around the yard, poking at the leaves, looking for more oranges and reds. I was enjoying myself immensely.
I was somewhat startled, therefore, when a woman from across the street yelled across: “Did you lose something?”
“No,” I replied. “We’re just playing with leaves.”
The neighbor took my explanation, with a nod and a slight look of confusion, and went back into her house.
I was reminded a little of that time I probably confused (or amused) some passersby back at my house by my rather unusual approach to shovelling snow.
Do you ever confuse your neighors?
¹ Much like I once did with tomatoes.