I walked with Sienna Jane, bundled in her stroller, over to the Arboretum last week to see the leaves. I didn't know I was going to be walking through the gate and into a magic kingdom of blood-red billows and carpets of thick green.
Yeats wrote that “the world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.”
I didn't remember how delightful it is to let them sharpen.
It doesn't take much.
To look long. To see the hidden mushrooms.
To take a deep inhale in and realize that the air is full of the sweetness of overripe blackberries and wood chips.
A slightly slower gait. A deep breath.
It seems silly perhaps, but as I tuned in I got truly giddy - overcome by how beautiful the world around was. I was in awe of ... everything. The colors and air and water...the sheer beauty and how it changes so gracefully! I had to share it with Sienna.
So I got her out of her stroller, found the biggest patch of fallen red and gold leaves I could, and laid her in their crunchy bed. I laughed at how badly I wanted to share this delight with her - a 12 week old!
I think she got it, though, as she smiled back up at my face and coo'ed at the branches above.
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