An orange leaf gently tumbles down from a branch above and lands on the brown grass by my foot. This wooden bench I'm sitting on feels damp and cool from the rain last night, but I ignore it. Who really cares about a wet bum from sitting out on the park? It is only a risk that ones takes when they visit Bushy Park or any of the other London parks.
I bend over and pick up the crisp, crinkly leaf. Then I roll it around in my ice cold hands until it is but specks of orange bits and pieces and the long brown stem. I dump the particles on to the ground and fiddle with the old leaf stem in boredom until it breaks. Then I drop it on the ground as well.
The wind picks up and I raise my jacket collar up against it and pull my deerstalker lower on my head. If Gregory doesn't hurry up, for sure I'm going to catch a cold...Or a frost-bit bum, whichever comes first.
Another couple of orange and red leaves drift down from the trees above, dancing softly and twirling in the wind on their way down. They land on the bench beside me. I dust them off onto the already leaf-sprinkled ground.
I then hear the crunch of leaves and dead grass and look behind me. Finally, there was Greg. And surprisingly, he has Moose, his brother's chocolate Newfie, with him as well.
"I see what took you so long." I smile at him.
Greg nods and Moose charges forward and yanks Greg after him. "Yeah, Travis and Regan decided on a last minute cruise."
"Typical them." I nod and pet Moose's back. "I swear he's gotten bigger."829Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDF64mmbhEl
"He has." Greg nods and sits next to me on the bench. "If he stands on his back legs, he's taller than you."829Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDK1aIm67Io
I nod and pet the dog. "He really has gotten very big then."
Greg nods and grunts as the dog pulls towards a falling leaf and barks. "Maybe we should go for a walk instead of sitting here or I swear he's going to pull my arms off."
I chuckle and stand up. "Sure."
We then walk along one of the park's leaf-rimmed pavements. I start to feel colder from having a damp bum from the bench and lean closer to Gregory. I look at the browns, oranges, reds, and greens of the trees and bushes that we pass. If only it wasn't so cold, fall would be so perfect with all the colors. But sometimes it's the imperfect bits that make something perfect. Fall just wouldn't be fall without the cold.
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