Ragdale, an arts colony in Illinois, my friend Laura came to visit me one afternoon. It was early November, and I was working on my novel, Grand River and Joy. Ragdale sits on 55 acres of pristine prairie, and Laura and I went out to walk on some of those acres. We saw many beautiful sights along the way, including many beautiful leaf-colors.
The leaves would be clinging and falling and twirling along Outer Drive, the big boulevard that crossed Harry’s block, and adorning the grand houses, carpeting their lawns in colors so startling they had no names, unless you made them up—like raspberry parfait or Tropicana burnt orange, or translucent copper-pink.