A Gentle Tug on Vine

I pushed past the bottom gap of the screen door, heading out into the open garden space. Resting right against the bottom lattice of the wooden trellis, a curled brown bean pod had dropped into a bed of dry pine needles. I paused, tilting my head to listen to the soft rustle around it. Stepping forward with gentle paws, I reached out and gave the brittle pod a steady wiggle with both front paws. It cracked open with a brisk, papery snap, sending three smooth, mottled purple beans tumbling neatly into the moss below. They looked like tiny polished stones, settled safe and sound.