Leaf Letters
Every autumn the tree writes to the pond, one leaf at a time, and one letter always finds the right frog.
There's a branch that leans out over the water from the top of the picture, and this week it's letting go. The leaves come down slowly, the way leaves do, turning a little on the way. Look closer and their veins aren't just veins. Each one has grown into a glyph: feel, egg, sad, leap, void. One is still hanging from its twig. Two have already landed and are drifting off across the pond like little boats, still carrying their words.
The one that's different
Only one leaf isn't green. It's damson, a deep plum, the one colour in the whole picture, and its pale veins say self. It's the only leaf the frog is reaching for. Both hands are up and open before it has even arrived, eyes turned up, mouth open, the whole frog leaning into the catch.
I keep thinking about how that feels. A lot of things drift past you in a season. Some of them say sad, and that's allowed. sad is up there too, drifting down on the right, and I didn't want to hide it. But the one you put both hands up for is the one with your own name on it, in a manner of speaking. It isn't really a letter from the tree. It's the frog finally recognising itself in something that fell out of the sky.
Paper and ink
After the night of Star Mint I wanted daylight back, so this one is on paper again, the warm off-white with its little tooth. The branch is a brown ink line, a few reeds stand at the left edge, and the pond is the usual deep green with its long flat ripples. Pond greens for every leaf except one. The damson does all the talking.
Where it lives
Leaf Letters is a Tezos piece, minted on objkt on 23 October as token 48748: 21 editions, one kept as an artist proof, the other 20 listed at 3 XTZ each, 10% royalties.
If a leaf ever lands in your hands, I hope it's the right one.