Picture my toddler grandson Rylan all grown up in college English 101, finding that the folios scattering about from my Riverside Shakespeare are literally leaves--Ha!
Anyway, I'm using the Riverside Shakespeare for pressing fall leaves for the sheer autumn pleasure of it. I remember in grade school gathering, pressing and ironing precious colored perfect leaves between wax paper to make place mats, and in turn, doing the same activity with my young daughters. The Oxford English Dictionaries are next for heft.
Remember the crunchy sound dry leaves make if you shuffle through them and their dusty smell? And the wild joy of bonfires? Jumping over the bonfires at the curb?
Indian corn is hanging on the door, although the bunch is a bit skimpy. Bouquets of silk chrysanthemums and fall leaves brighten the living room. Colored leaves are strewn about the counters and bookshelves where they persist in turning crinkling. So far I have resisted stealing corn shocks from the fields, quintessentially fallish as they are.
