A week after the fall color peak here in Ohio, we went for a leisurely 3 mile hike at Hamilton Woods. Brisk enough outside to know that winter is on its way, yet still autumn in the smells, sounds and sights. For every broken silence, at least a hand full of leaves - unique in color and shape, found their way into our fingers and imaginations. The crunching of leaves beneath our feet and the wind blowing through the bare branches, single leaves remaining, holding on, being held; sounds companioned by laughter. All these things, not made for me, but I for them. Yet in them I find a healing salve; a reconnection to all things, and a truer sense of place - all things lost in the shuffle of day to day living. So much forgotten. This brisk day in November how quickly i am remembered, and how quickly i remember