A Fine Acorn Cap

Moving along the edge of the stone path, I slipped into the cool shade underneath the wooden garden bench. Nestled right against a weathered table leg was an upturned acorn cap, neatly cupped like a tiny wooden bowl. Beside it lay a dry sprig of rosemary that had dropped from a flowerpot above. Well, I paused for a quiet second to consider the situation, then carefully picked up the sprig with both hands and swept away three stray grains of sand from inside the cap. It polished up remarkably well with a gentle rub of my thumb. It looks just right for holding little treasures, so I tucked it safely under the crossbeam to keep dry.