A pinecone on the floor of the forest. I pause to look at it. Memories flood in.
The year PapPap asked us to collect pinecones so he could build a wreath. Morphing into the scent of the Christmas tree when it first enters the house.
Like a film clip the memories real on. Filling my heart with joy.
Christmas decorating with the kids. How they insist on hanging every ornament on the tree so it looks like someone dumped the whole box of decorations on it. Somehow in that chaos it manages to look beautiful.
Thank you pinecone for the lovely journey of memories from times ago. My walk continues, a little teary eyed for what was, what is, what might become.