Leaves clink sometimes. I notice that, as I sit outside with my laptop. I close my eyes and explore the sound of the maple tree above my head. It sends crisp glove-shaped presents drifting down into my enclosed patio. On a different day I might roll my eyes and get out my little rake, but today I just want to listen to the tree on this blustery day.
Its leaves are dry from the Indian summer, and they playfully collide and bounce off each other like wooden chimes. I close my eyes again and hear them mimicking a crackling fire. And now, the distinct sound of rain. The wind picks up and I hear rushing water. The gust of wind settles down and I hear sizzling bacon. Bubbling water in a pan.
The wind silences and everything is mute. Then I hear one leaf—only one, tip tapping its neighbor. Shh.
The silence is a teaser, and a violent wallop of wind pounds at the branches! I am blasted with a swirl of leaves, bark and dust. My hair is mangled, whipping every which way. I grab my laptop and run inside, laughing!
Tomorrow the leaves will get an indignant burial in my green recycling bin, but today… today I watch them through the window as they dance with triumph, celebrating their victory. They have won the day and the child in me is glad they did.