The joy of life expressed here so poetically that it makes you smile…inside…outside. Feel good read this. Feeling bad read this.
Four years ago, we collected a pine cone hard as stone. There were no gaps or spaces between the folds of the cone and it sat in my hands heavy as a rock, but unlike a rock, this weight was full of promise. Full of trees.
This cone – the perfect container for seeds of the Stone Pine – rested silent, heavy, dormant on our windowsill. It sat there for months, then for a year, then for another. It moved house, changed locations, then took its place in a group of three cones on a plate painted with a sunflower. Silent, heavy, sleeping.
Three years passed and then it changed. The cone shifted in its woody way from stone to flower – unseen by our eyes, its fronds had opened like petals, and around the cone, on the green and yellow of the sunflower plate, were the seeds. Silent…
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