The Autumn Roll

I stepped past the threshold of the porch and made my way down to the quiet garden path. Among the raked gravel, a fallen acorn rested near a patch of moss, its polished shell intact and its cupule neatly attached. A provision of this caliber deserved proper transport. I planted my sandals firmly against the loose stones and placed both paws against its curved side. With steady, measured effort, I rolled the heavy nut across the gravel toward the sheltered hollow beneath the wooden step. It wobbled over a few pebbles, yet arrived safely at my new outpost. A disciplined scout does not return empty-pawed.