Spinning Seeds

I slipped out through the side latch and padded along the pavement to the quiet walled garden behind Pickford's House. Up on the flat stone coping of the brick wall, a pair of dried sycamore seeds lay joined at their stem. Instead of leaving them still, I edged the winged pair toward the drop with both front paws. When the heavy seed pod tipped over the rim, it began to whirl. The papery wing caught the calm air, spinning in a dizzy little blur before floating gently onto a bed of ivy below. Eager to see it again, I nudged the remaining wing over to watch it flutter down.