A Split Hazelnut Shell

I pushed past the bottom gap of the screen door into the yard, heading straight for the quiet soil under the potting bench. Halfway into the damp loam sat the hollow half of an old hazelnut shell, tipped upside down like a dark wooden dome. I leaned my plush base against its ridged curve with a slow, steady push. It turned over with a soft squelch, revealing a trapped droplet of water resting inside the clean pale cavity. A smear of wet black peat pressed into my lower cloth as I leaned back against the weathered bench leg, watching the water catch the morning light.