maple leaf

I have a special affection for maple leaves. This does not come, as some of you might guess, because of my half-Canadian nationality. I enjoy this particular leaf because growing up I spent many hours climbing in an enormous maple tree that grew in my back yard.

I remember being scared at first to have dad boost me up the base and climb in it. And, then, as I got a bit taller and braver, and with the addition of a knotted rope up the middle of the trunk, I found myself spending more and more time up there. Matt (much less cautious than myself) and I would often be up there with some of the neighbors for hours; climbing to new heights or testing out new branches.

When the leaves started changing colors we would mop them up into piles. Mom helped rake them up for us to jump in, run through, and redistribute around that portion of the yard; or, uh...maybe we "helped" mom gather them up to clean up the grass. Either way, that smell of dry maple leaves has left quite a dent in my mind.

Today I was out for a walk with my camera. I walked through thousands of yellow and burnt orange leaves and kicked up the smell that instantly transport me back to my 7 year old self under our big maple tree in the back yard. I almost smells like hay, but there's a distinct flavor to this leaf. I could nearly imagine walking in the house with pieces of orange hanging from my hair, or attached to my clothes, or stuck in my velco shoes.

The colors here, this year, are second-to-none. I thought I would miss the autumn in the midwest without all the trees turning, but I have found a spectacular showing out in the Evergreen State this year.