the black truck is parked under the trees in the driveway. not much going on unless you want to count the pine needles that are falling like snow, covering the asphalt, the dry crackly leaves, the green (!) grass, the rotting plant stalks, the truck's hood. pinecones are falling, too—vast, sticky crowds of them—their pitchy scent as fresh and powerful as the pine needles.
more pinecones are gathering on the ground than i have seen on this patch of land in 30 years. every few days i rake dozens into the woods off the driveway. does this mean a harsh winter is on its way? are pinecones significant harbingers of what's coming, sent down from the old white pines before the blizzards, the howling northeasters get here, to tell us to watch out, stock up, get out our woolies, hibernate in front of a good wood fire? or are they simply the tree's surplus, shed as new cones form?
still i keep thinking why so many this year?
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