A Spin on Direction

The kitchen was growing dreadfully predictable, so I marched straight past the front mat and onto the morning porch steps. There lay a flat, fallen yellow maple leaf, accompanied by a discarded brass split-pin fastener. Leaving a crisp leaf to lie flat and rot? Insipid! I hoisted the heavy split pin with both rigid claws, puncturing its twin prongs straight through the leaf's tough central vein. Wedging the brass tip into an open crack between two outdoor tiles, I shoved the papery yellow edges downward until they curved into a furious four-bladed pinwheel. One sharp gust of morning draft—*whirrrr-FLACK!* The golden wheel spun into a wild, dizzying blur, whipping gravel dust in theatrical spirals. That is how the outdoors should greet me!