Whenever I am outside, I find myself looking down to view the colors of newly fallen leaves. There have been other autumns, but I don't think I paid as much attention to them as I have this one. I seem to be fascinated with the beauty of leaves this year. I stoop and pick up one, two, or more. Later a resting place on a journal page . . . a chance to save a few of so many.
Every leaf speaks
bliss to me,
fluttering from the
autumn tree.
-Emily Bronte
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