We have been blessed with brisk breezes lately. When I walk, with the leaves whispering above and around me, it brings me comfort; what a lovely, soft noise it is. I notice a few leaves already falling, reminding me why we call autumn "fall". I picked up four of them to share, as a reminder.
I remembered Iowa autumns back when I attended a one-room country school where grades primary through eighth grade were taught by a single teacher, Mrs. Eighmy. She was my teacher for three years, and like most young children, I loved my teacher and thought she was the prettiest lady I'd ever seen. I recalled the time another primary student, a boy, and I were playing at the sandbox up front whispering and Mrs. Eighmy tapped me on the head with her pencil for talking; she might as well have beaten me! It shamed and embarrassed me, and broke my heart. I think I got over it by the next day, though.
An Iowa magazine did an article about Skinner School that included one of my most cherished pictures from childhood. I've shared it on my blog many times, but I have some newer readers these days, so I'll share it again. I'm at the second-from-the-back desk on the right side, that dull-looking little girl in a green-and-yellow dress made by my mother; she made all my clothes back then, using mostly the same pattern.
Inspired by the whispering breeze in the trees as I walked, I remembered a song we sang at Skinner School. I looked on YouTube and found other versions and other tunes, but the tune we learned wasn't there, so I guess you'll have to listen to me; never fear, it's a very short song. Oh, and the only wind you'll hear is the wind blowing around my camera. I was lying beneath the cottonwood tree, the noisiest whisperer on the place. I'm sorry you couldn't hear it.