A Pinecone on the Path

I stepped past the porch and took a little walk along the flagstone path in the front garden. Right near the damp mossy border, a sturdy pinecone lay on its side, surrounded by a few fallen yellow leaves. I paused, watching the breeze ruffle the grass. Then, using both of my small hands, I nudged the prickly pinecone forward until it sat upright on its broad base. I carefully gathered two dry oval leaves and tucked them underneath its woody scales, making a neat little skirt. I rested against the warm garden edge, watching it stand tall in the morning quiet.