When the wind blows in the fall the rustle and bustle of the leaves above can grow to a sudden crowd like roar. Then falling down from the tree tops comes a sudden wave of leaves. Walking through them I feel like it is a ticker-tape parade dedicated only to me. It makes me remember birthdays in Watertown when I was younger when my father would rake all the leaves in the yard into a single large pile beneath the four foot drop-off from the garden to the yard. My friends and I would take turns spinning, diving, and falling until the plush and scratchy leaves broke our fall and consumed us.