Mushrooms at Sinnissippi Park

The other day I was sitting in the park with all three of the boys eating a picnic lunch.  We had just had a great ride through the paths at the forest preserve to get there and were enjoying the sunlight and the turkey sandwiches.  A slight breeze came up and rustled the leaves on the oak trees around us.   Jack pointed to the trees and said “look the leaves are falling.”  We all took a moment to watch the leaves fall, yellow and spinning in the dappled sunlight.  Then Jack said “I like when the leaves fall”, and stole my heart all over again.

Because I too like when the leaves fall.  Autumn has always been my favorite time of year.  I love the “Halloween” winds that blow the leaves of trees.  I like to watch the leaves falling, floating, spinning down to earth.  I often stop whatever I am doing  just to watch.  Autumn also means that the Canadian Geese are flocking to fly South.  The great honking chains that pass over our house this time of year cause me to stop and watch in wonder too.

Which brings me to my soap box.  I take a lot of photos of nature.  I paint a lot of pictures with animals and plants in them.  Maybe it’s my Native American genes.  Maybe I am less removed (an eighth less at least) then my European- American counterparts from the wonders of nature.   Some of my ancestors only recently left the Great Plains for mobile homes after all.   I think what’s missing in far too many people’s lives these days is a connection with nature.    A real connection with dirt and insects and fungi and all things dirty and damp and alive and moving.  I’m lucky, dare I say blessed to have this connection, to truly feel respect and reverence for nature.

And I’ll admit it does make me feel special that my family can sit in the park together and watch the leaves fall in companionable silence