It’s raining maple seeds. The grand old silver maple next door is once more bestowing its wondrous propeller-shaped seedlings to the ground, twirling, twirling as they fall. For years now, sitting out there, I have picked up these intricate objects to examine them up close. They’re wondrously made, extraordinary products, hiding a vividly green seed-flesh in the egg-shaped tip that unfailingly lands point first into soft earth.
I've been having much fun with the little girls next door when we walk with Katie and toss handfuls of such seeds into the air. Being tallest, my displays are the best!
ReplyDeleteAround here, the air was full today with cotton seed, causing me to postpone the final stages of the deck staining project...
I can just see the three of you in cones of swirling propellers...
ReplyDeleteI have a 30-lb brown lawn bag full of these seeds that I'd gladly let you have for a super-seed-spectacle you, Ann and Lexi could have tomorrow... How about that?
ReplyDeleteMom, no one will ask what you're going to DO with that thirty pound bag, nor where you are keeping it for the moment. I just hope it won't still be there when I come next Thanksgiving...
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