When I was a child, every teacher, worth her salt, met the autumnal equinox with a tube of waxed paper in one hand, and an iron in the other. Our job, as students, was to provide the leaves. And not just any old leaves. Her directions soon turned the project into a competition of size, color, and shape.
Soon, stomping through the woods became a yearly ritual with me; one that I continued after my children were born when teachers, and students alike, had long since traded their irons in for much less interactive forms of artistic endeavor.
My children looked forward to our forays into the forest, and the competition grew quickly between them in the search for the perfect autumn leaf. Of course, we returned home with buckets of them. After giving the directive to choose just one, I went in search of waxed paper.
I watched the care they took in placing the chosen leaf in the center of the paper I provided; the gnawed lips, and the quiet eyes. I remembered the way that felt, and the ensuing anticipation of the finished product. And, as I approached their careful handiwork with the steaming iron, their grimaces, which gradually melted into eyes of shining wonder. Of course, months later when cold winds had removed the remaining leaves from every tree, I would find the once-treasured remnant of autumn under a cabinet or protruding from a slightly askew dresser drawer, and I collected them, placing them with mine, now decades old, in a box they will open when deciding what to keep, and what to throw away.
As I drove around this weekend, I was struck by the magnificent colors in the trees near my home. The reds seem deeper, the oranges fiery. And it occurred to me that this seasonal display offers more than beauty, it offers comfort, as well. Because, year after year, no matter what other changes may come in our lives, this one thing remains constant; as autumn winds bring in cooler, brighter air, the leaves on the trees of our landscape react, on cue, to put on a show we look forward to, no matter how many times we’ve seen it. And, each year, in a stand of human resilience and hope, we firmly state this season’s show was the best, yet!
© Copyright 2007-2008 Stacye Carroll
Are We There Yet? 
