Our natural environment has been put to bed for the season of hibernation. Trees have quietly slipped off their summer cloaks and eased themselves into an introverted state. Indications of dormancy and slumber are everywhere around us. But wait, still, there is the crocus of color in Autumn tumbling toward Winter. This color hollering that she, and thus we, are still very much here and alive, is brilliant red. She is everywhere painting our streets, wrapping our bodies, drawing our attention, captivating our hearts, bright as our blood. And so when the root children and flowers are under Jack Frost's spell we can still hunt and gather luminous bits that abound in our constructed environment.