Leaves

I have spent many happy hours with my young daughter gathering, drawing and preserving leaves. This simple activity is resplendent with blessing. Time becomes meaningless when spent amongst their company. I become aware of a different dimension to life where what is of value in our culture today becomes meaningless. I leave their company refreshed, calm and whole. It is God who made leaves and in doing so He gifted mankind with the indelible fingerprint of His love and care for us. For this particular wreath I traced the desired size onto poster board, cut it out and glued the pressed leaves that my daughter had chosen on to it. It is under the glass of our kitchen table. I need to get inspired now and take the summer wreath off the front door. I will leave you with the words of this poem titled Leaves by Craig Sathoff. "The leaves of autumn speak to me in fast, impatient tones of all the beauties to be seen and tasks that must be done. At other times they sing to me in accents soft and low, inviting me to sit and dream not hurry to and fro. The leaves might laugh and jest a bit and pass the time of day, or barely stop to speak to me as they rush on their way. I've talked with leaves at autumn time since I was just a boy and every year their friendship brings a special touch of joy."