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I sat with my back against a tree and slowly surveyed the landscape before me. Early November is when the beauty of fall loses her luster. The kaleidoscope of color has faded into drab browns. Many oak leaves still stubbornly cling to their branches but they will eventually become part of the forest floor. It’s nature’s recycling, as layers of old leaves from years past become part of the soil that feeds the forest. Some leaves will hang tightly through the winter, but eventually they too will let go when the promise of next spring starts to bud.