I have this odd desire to hike back into the woods and catalogue all of the remaining beech leaves, inventory all of them, map their locations — seven left on this branch, none on this tree, a cluster of thirty or more over here near this sinkhole — make little pencil sketches of their shapes from various angles, and put all these details into a homemade book and bind it by hand and place it on a high shelf on the bookcase.

Must be cabin fever. Seems like a lot of work. Thank God Spring’s coming.