I miss the old days of the "scritch, scritch, scritch" of the rakes. Now, noisy leaf blowers and lawn mowers and tractors clean up the leaves as fast as they can. No time anymore to enjoy the imagination of childhood. (No more burning of leaves either!)
As kids, we used to make a pile as tall as we could, then and jump in it...or maybe even dive off the the fence into the pile!
We played "House" by building the leaves into piles that represented walls. Even if the walls were only five inches tall, we made doorways and did not "walk through walls". Then before bathtime, the crumpled up leaves would come out of our shoes and pants cuffs.
Is there time anymore for imagination? For me there is...I keep making up stories in my head. I may not be lying down in a pile of leaves making angels, but I will keep dreaming.
