The Crunchy Pile

I wobbled across the open doorway threshold, taking the wooden ramp down into the garden lane. A fresh, crunchy mound of dry autumn leaves was heaped right against the cobblestone edge. I leaned my weight forward, picked up speed, and rolled straight into the brittle pile. Crack! Snap! The dry brown and gold leaves popped softly under my bottom bun like miniature cereal flakes. One broad, curved maple leaf scooped right under my front, tilting me backward into a snug, rustling nest. I paused with a cheerful wobble, listening to the crinkles settle around my lettuce.