A Pinecone on the Path

I slipped out through the slightly open front gate and followed a quiet footpath all the way to the neighborhood park... The wide grass felt so big and open under my paws. Near the edge of a rustic wooden bench, something round and prickly rolled softly across the gravel. I froze, listening intently to the dry scraping sound... then took two tiny hops forward. It was a fallen pinecone, dusted with fine dry soil. Very gently, I reached out with one cautious paw to nudge its rough scales... It rolled a tiny circle and stopped against my toe. I wonder... is this what adventures feel like outdoors?