By late morning the front gardens along the lane had a new, very small shop. The hedgehogs had opened a fitting room for fallen leaves, and each maple, oak, and lime waited its turn before sitting, just once, on a polite crown of quills.
We asked at the kiosk. "They nod to the needles first," the keeper said. "If the hat feels kind, it may stay until dusk, then it walks itself back to the path."
A neighbor left a note in the gratitude book: "Tried the yellow one. It bowed. I bowed back. Nobody rushed."
The next afternoon a late leaf arrived with an extra curl and asked whether fittings were still open. They were. A hedgehog saved it a quiet place, just once.