🍃
ResourceSkilling
Stackable
Armful of dry leaves rustling softly against each other, the colors staggered through every shade between copper and rust. Crumbles to a papery powder if squeezed with any conviction.
Entry
Chronicle
Raked from the kitchen-yards and orchard lanes by children who are promised a small payment in sweets. Composters prize the first turn of leaves, because those are the ones that have not yet surrendered their tannins to the weather. The roof-thatchers take the rest for patching work, and nobody involved finds this division of labor worth arguing over.