I was talking to my students the other day about their first memories. It is hard to know what you remember, what you have seen in a picture, or what someone has told you. Some remembered a time they were hurt, or being scared. I have a strong memory of getting my tonsils out at a very young age.
When I read this poem it took me right back to Sunnyside School, second grade, and a walk around the neighborhood in October. We went leaf collecting. What I think we did was iron them in wax paper, but maybe my memory is closer to the author's below.
Gathering Leaves in Grade School