This past weekend we spent an afternoon enjoying the foliage and the decorations around Georgetown. The neighborhood is always lovely but bedecked in yellow and red, and with plump pumpkins of all shapes and sizes it is even more enchanting. The farther up (and away from Wisconsin) we went the quieter and more deserted it got. We would pass the occasional mum pushing a stroller but other than a few squirrels here and there it felt as if we had the whole place to ourselves.

There was a peaceful stillness in the air, a last quiet before the holidays come jingling their jolly way into our homes, bushy trees, roast turkeys and all. Christmas was already sneaking itself in with those inescapable festive Starbucks cups and with the holiday display at Target slowly creeping up on the last of the Halloween decorations. But on Saturday it was as if every red tipped tree was saying "ssshhhh... take it all in before it's gone." Before the leaves are bare and even your warmest scarf won't keep you warm anymore. Before the days are gray and you can cut the chill in the air with a knife. And so we did, with great delight! 

We felt every crunch, took deep breaths of the golden air and opened our eyes extra wide to make sure we didn't miss a single tree, leaf pile or pumpkin lined stoop. It felt as if we walking in an oil painting - the world looked creamy, glowing and soft. 

At one point in our walk I knelt down to play in the leaves with Birdie and found myself aching with bliss. I shut my eyes and tried my darndest to just seal it all in my memory forever. This day. My daughter at ten months with six teeth, little tufts of soft brown hair, ruddy cheeks and those tiny toasty hands. To remember the exact shade of red of the maple leaves. To remember the way magic seemed so palpable. It hung itself ever so delicately and winked at us through the few lines of twinkle lights that had already been wrapped around a tree or two. It was autumn at it's best and an unadulterated hint of Christmas. And honestly what could be more perfect?

One day I know I'll need this day. I'll curl on the sofa, close my eyes and go back to a day when nature sprinkled magic in the air in the form of leaves twirling their way down to the ground one soft silent gust of wind at a time.