A Pinch of Nutmeg

I climbed up the spice shelf to inspect a small wooden container that smelled richly of autumn baking. Resting half out of its tiny tin was a whole, dried nutmeg kernel, wrinkled and firm like a wooden nut. I sat down on the pine plank and nudged the heavy seed between both plush paws. It rolled smoothly along the groove of the shelf until it bumped gently against an antique metal grater. Leaning close, I rested my paws on the cool tin side, taking in its sweet, earthy fragrance as the morning sun warmed the wood.