Clive and I often watch tv programmes about independent gold miners operating on sea beds or remote mountains. Their labour, if successful, yields a mass of gold flakes and nuggets.
The gold particles from those enterprises look just like the foliage around us at the moment: same irregular shapes, same shades of colour, same mix of dark and pale.
Looking out of a window surrounded by leaves is like looking through the gold frame of a painting.
The only question is: are we looking in or looking out?