The Rolling Acorn Cap

I dusted the clover off my knees after that bicycle wheel adventure and strolled along the sunlit curb! Right ahead lay a giant round pinecone, drying out in the afternoon warmth like an open wooden pagoda. Sufferin' succotash—wedged tightly between two prickly woody scales was a pale, feather-light seed tuft trembling in the breeze! I leaned in, grabbed a rough woody petal with both gloved paws, and gave a mighty yank to dislodge it. *Snap-topple!* The pinecone tipped straight over, rolling half an inch into the gutter grit, but out popped the silky winged seed right onto my knuckles! I held it up like a delicate fan, whiskers twitching with triumphant satisfaction.