Noticing

 

It had been a good walk.

Granddaughter #9 (hereinafter known as Miss E), and her family were exploring the neighbourhood.

They had remarked upon the crisp, fall air.

Endless blue skies.

Sunshine.

NO SNOW.

The geese were flying, getting higher and more numerous as the babies gained strength and experience to be ready for the Great Flight South.

Dozens of people were out on the city paths, walking themselves (and, more interesting to the little girl, their dogs).

Transparent ice was forming at the edges of the ponds.

Crispy, colourful dead leaves were everywhere, inviting running and stomping and flinging one’s small self into.

For a few moments, the little girl had been quiet.

Then they walked past a small shrub which, unlike its larger neighbours who were just beginning the leaf-shedding of the season, had completely lost its green, leafy summer coat.

Miss E stopped.

Pointed.

“Oh look, Mom!” she said. “This one’s naked!”

Everyone turned.

“How embarrassing!”