As a child growing up in the Northeast part of the United States, there were times of the year that became magical. I have vivid memories of the leaves turning color in autumn. My grammar school teacher would have us find the most colorful leaves we could, and we were surrounded by them from the elms, maples and oak trees that were abundant where I lived. We would iron the leaves between two sheets of wax paper to preserve them and hang them from the classroom walls in celebration. Even as I got older, I remember driving to high school immediately after a rainstorm. Wild colored leaves blanketed the road, the setting sun broke through clouds and a gust of wind filled the air with swirls of color that I drove through.