Maybe I’d never noticed it before because I’d never seen a pinecone in just the right light. Or maybe I’ve just never been as observant as I thought I was. Whatever the case, and however the negligence occurred, my sheer delight in finding the painted striations on the inner structure of this pinecone has been unparalleled of late, when outside delights have been few and few between. On this sunny afternoon, when I took a stroll around the yard to see if anything had the courage to peep through the floor (a couple of daffodils on the south-facing wall were all I could find) it was a pinecone dropped from above that caught my eye and interest.
I’ve noticed pinecones before – and appreciated them for their architecture and form, the way nature sets some swirls into works of art that stick out from their surroundings through their radial perfection. And I’ve examined many pinecones up close, but this is the first I recall seeing such patterns within, and it’s one of those neat observations that, at the ripe age of 45, feels fresh and new and filled with wonder – the perfect embodiment of a proper spring start.
