Stomping Grounds: Part 1

Autumn makes me think of elementary school. I used to have a gold colored jacket I wore with red leggings. When we'd play tag in the fall, I'd put my hood up, run towards the wooded part of the school yard and bury myself in a pile of leaves. It was one of those variants where the person who was It had to tag everyone and it tickled me to watch my classmates run past me again and again, not seeing me curled up right in front of them. I liked the earthy smell of slightly decayed leaves and earth and the tang of dew. I felt like I was a tree or a bush or maybe some sort of wood sprite, a part of the environment that the kids had been let loose on. As I rake the leaves on my oak festooned acre, I'm very tempted to hide in the leaves rather than clean them up. Maybe I'll teach my son the joys of leaf mound hiding.