I hand my daughter a stem of yellow leaves on the ground. She is one year old and still thinks the way of exploring the world is through her mouth. I pick up a red leaf and hand it to her. I wonder if it taste like cherry. The falling leaves mark the end of a season, the end of life, but I can't help but think for her it's a beginning. She doesn't remember last year. In her mind, she has never seen the leaves change color. For all she knows, they do taste like cherries. Or lemon drops. Or orange taffy. She has to try them all. I imagine what she will think when she sees snow. Or tries to eat an icicle. She has the entire world to discover. Witnessing it reminds me that I take for granted the beauty around me. I recently took an online test to determine my strengths. One of the questions keeps coming back to me. "Do you see beauty in the world that other people miss?" Do I put always, sometimes, or never? I see beauty around me, but do I miss some of it? Looking through my daughter's eyes, I can see there is beauty around me that I miss. And if I take a look, I might wonder at the toffee flavored leaves on the tree outside.