The dead leaves are in their final days, waiting for some wind to blow them off their trees and shrubs and onto the forest floor and paths, where they will change colors again, and turn to mush. As they die, a little more each day, they seem to gather themselves, much as people do, and turn inward. I have come to find these leaves enchanting and beautiful – thanks to my photography – most because they are never the same, no matter how often I walk past them. Yesterday, these leaves were greenish/yellow, and much more open. Today they seemed to be gathering in formation, preparing for the next trip. I might be losing my mind, of course, and about time, but I think this morning they were not brown, and this afternoon they were. Tomorrow they will be gone.
  Life is relentless, in that it is always moving, changing, decaying, and I have this idea that I take time for granted at my peril. That is a way to a life of regrets, looking back and wishing I had done this or that thing. Like the rest, I can’t do everything I want, or in the way I want. I do intend to get my licks in, though.To be fulfilled. To send my signal to the world.
  And I do not want to look back on a life of  regrets, especially because I was too distracted, misguided, fearful or foolish to disrespect the rush of time. Leaves remind of this, every day.
  They whisper to me, all the time, pay attention. Notice us.