For those who don’t know I am a total autumn season nut. It is by far my favorite season of the year.
So on the way to the grocery store yesterday I was enjoying the fall weather and all the pretty leaves on the ground. I noticed as I walked along that some of the leaves kind of looked like faces to me and I imagined them with little eyes, noses and mouths. (Yes, this kind of thing is not uncommon for me. Don’t hate.) On the way back from the store I picked up a couple of leaves and when I get home I promptly added those eyes, noses, and mouths.
Perfect! Hm. “So now what?” I asked myself. Photos and a little itty bitty silly film of course!
Rosie rejects Ricky’s advances. Ouch that smarts. Poor Ricky.
Enjoy!
You’re funny!
Think what a treat that was for those leaves. Normally the best a leaf can expect once it leaves the tree is to lie there discarded and sort of rot for a couple years. Or crumble to pieces, if it’s on a sidewalk. Or be hauled off from lawns in bags and burned.
How often does someone come along, pick you up, draw a face on you and cast you in a light-hearted pageant of hope and spurned longing?
Of course, those forest leaves have it pretty good. Build up into thick mats on the forest floor and sort of add to the earthy atmosphere. Become part of a habitat in its own right.
Or the suburban leaves – it might sometimes be fun, to be raked together into huge piles for kids to jump into!
But in terms of individual attention – way to give each of your leaves a chance to be a star. I’d like to see a backstage video documenting the selection process, the dashed hopes of those not chosen, etc. etc.
When I meet a pretty girl and beg her: “Be so good as to come with me,” and she walks past without a word, this is what she means to say:
“You are no Duke with a famous name, no broad American with a Red Indian figure, level, brooding eyes and a skin tempered by the air of the prairies and the rivers that flow through them, you have never journeyed to the seven seas and voyaged on them wherever they may be, I don’t know where, so why, pray, should a pretty girl like myself go with you?”
“You forget that no automobile swings you through the street in long thrusts; I see no gentlemen escorting you in a close half-circle, pressing on your skirts from behind and murmuring blessings on your head; your breasts are well laced into you bodice, but your thighs and hips make up for that restraint; you are wearing a taffeta dress with a pleated skirt such as delighted all of us last autumn, and yet you smile–inviting mortal danger–from time to time.”
“Yes, we’re both in the right, and to keep us from being irrevocably aware of it, hadn’t we better just go our separate ways home?”
The Rejection by Franz Kafka 🙂