The Wooden Spool

I nudged a small wooden spool that lay tipped on its side on the wool rug. Around its narrow waist was wrapped a spool of thick forest-green yarn, with a loose fuzzy tail trailing across the weave. Holding my pumpkin securely against my tummy, I gently tapped the spool's circular rim with one paw. It gave a quiet, muffled wobble across the wool, unwinding just a thumb's length of green thread before stopping right against my foot. The smooth sanded wood smelled faintly of cedar and quiet afternoons. I sat down and nestled my pumpkin beside it, watching the little thread curl like a tendril on a vine.