I have always found fallen leaves to be magical things.
They jump, hop, scuttle, soar; doing an excellent imitation of mice, toads, snakes, birds. They dance together with abandoned exuberance on a circle of breezes, decorate a chain link fence in changing abstract patterns (surely there is a hidden message in their arrangement?).
Their crunching sound is so satisfying underfoot; kicking your way through a pile of freshly raked leaves is still one of life’s greatest pleasures.
I was laying under our walnut tree late on a spring evening. The leaves rustled and rustled all over; not a jumpy but a soft all at once kind of sound. The flashlight revealed nothing.
I think they were earth worms dragging leaves underground for supper. The experience was so otherworldly, watching stars move over head to the music of frogs (spring peepers) and rustling dry leaves.