She's not quite sure this is in the spirit of what the scavenger hunt meant, but it's worth it to see the little girl go rushing through the leaves. They scatter madly in her wake in an explosion of scarlet and gold and umber. The photo that results is not good by any stretch of an imagination even so robust as Anne's, but it could easily be used as a study of youthful exuberance and delight.

And there are, visibly, feet in autumn leaves. So it ought to count.

Laughing, Anne comes toward the tree and reaches up to grasp one slender branch, then shakes it briskly. Russet leaves detach and come drifting down on a playful autumn breeze, a few of them landing in the girl's hair. "Well done," Anne approves.