Pine Cone

It's 12:00am, and five minutes ago I didn't have anything to write about. I asked my friend Siminy, who's staying over at the moment, what I should write about; the answer: 'write about that pine cone over there.' Sadly, looks can kill.

The pine cone in question, pointed out to me by Siminy, is a large cone, though not fully opened and raw sienna in colour.
At the moment, it is tilted slightly upwards, resting on a yellow UFO-type gourd, and surrounded by other cones, gourds and curly bean-tree pods. Two environmentally-friendly light bulbs shed light indirectly over the entire arrangement, making the deep recesses of each cone darker, and highlighting the curved tips of each segment.

Curvy and golden, the gourds can be seen between the sharp, conical browns of the cones. The arrangement has been placed in a glazed basket with the lines of smooth, thin willow twisted over each other, disappearing around the edges of what I can see of the arrangement. Warm contrasts of ochre and burnt sienna meld with the pine-green vinyl table cloth, the whole arrangement appealing to the certain inner standard of beauty I have.

These pine cones have fulfilled their purpose in life: They started off young and green and ambitious, then slowly grew, their seeds maturing in the hollows of each of their segments - until finally, the seeds became detachable and the wind took them. Little, pointed oval seeds that had translucent sails, twirling down to the ground. After a while the pine tree would detach the old, de-seeded pine cones from the tree and they would fall, thudding onto a prickly blanket of brown needles.

Their life was over. All was achieved, done. But then, a woman came walking through the pine trees with her daughter, and the two exclaimed over the huge pine cones - lying messily over the grass - and picked them up, filled their arms with them. They drove off to their house, and made them into an arrangement with yellow gourds and bean pods.

- Lydie :)