The rightness of full leaves.

After hours of sunning myself outside the officehouse this afternoon, I walked across the lawn to visit the beech tree that has made appearances in the Cabinet before. This week, the tree's leaves are breaking from the spring cocoons that have contained them, whole groups of leaves pleated neatly into each tough case. I fetched my camera (and news of a massive storm system that was making its way down to us from Cleveland) and set about preserving these hairy little leaves' early days--only to get a swift reminder in the utter joy of trying to catch close-up photographs of a tree in the breeze. Repeatedly, just as I was about to release the shutter, the leaves on which I was focused danced away and then back again. In almost no time, I was laughing out loud to the tree. Someone joined me on the lawn and said, "Dare I even ask?" "I'm playing with this tree," I replied. "And is it playing back?" he asked, though he seemed skeptical when I answered in the affirmative and explained my answer.

The leaves are out and dancing all up and down my eye right now, everywhere.

The photographic results of my play are, alas, not yet processed and ready for upload; it's a busy week in Gambier, and (not least because of the storms, and not least because I was checking in with half of my excellent family tonight) I didn't make it back to the appropriate computer this evening. But you'll have a photo show very soon--for some of you, before you even know that it wasn't here before. [Et voilà! And more to come.]