The stillness of the quiet Sunday was broken by the steady hum of leaf blowers, trying to corral the ever growing piles of leaves.
Men and women, leaf blowers and rakes in hand worked diligently forming large piles of leaves on the side of the road in anticipation of the town’s leaf collection.
Children with small rakes worked alongside their parents, and randomly abandoned their task to jump spontaneously into the piles, emerging laughing with joy, their hair and clothes full of leaves.
Trees not ready to let the last vestige of their finery go, clung tightly to the small amount of leaves that remained.
The cold November winds tugged tenaciously at the trees, trying to wrestle the remaining leaves from their tenuous hold.
Meanwhile on the streets, dogs happily plodded along, noses buried in the leaves sniffing for buried treasured.
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