Grandma invited us down the road with news of a leaf-pile ripe for jumping.
“Yes!” whooped Rebecca.
The Lord provided a crisp and dry day for her sport.
Somehow I think the trees were clapping as though they relinquished their leaves for a joyful purpose.
For you will go out with joy
And be led forth with peace;
The mountains and the hills will break forth into shouts of joy before you,
And all the trees of the field will clap their hands.
Instead of the thorn bush the cypress will come up,
And instead of the nettle the myrtle will come up,
And it will be a memorial to the LORD,
For an everlasting sign which will not be cut off.
P.S. Christian is not pictured herein because 12 is apparently too old for jumping in leaves.