We have a central green—a village “common”, as it were—in our cluster. There’s a tot lot, with slides and a jungle gym, swings, a swathe of lawn and, of course poison ivy. (We’re three months out from the first acknowledgment of the pest and still waiting for the cluster board/management company/contracted landscaping company to actually, you know, do something about it.)
There’s also a metal picnic table/benches jobber, where I’ve
seen parents sit while watching their kids play.
Early last week, however, I noticed someone had ornamented
the table with pinecones. They so closely matched the color of the surface that
their protrusion looked almost organic.
When it was still there the next day, I augmented the
arrangement, just because it made me feel happy.
(Took me a while to get the pine sap off my fingers and mobile phone case.)
I don’t know what it was about those slender cones poking
up from the holes in the table, but it evoked something magical, whimsical and
even promising. Considering everything that’s going on in the world, I’m
perhaps overly grateful for things like this. But gratitude is gratitude.
©2025 Bas Bleu
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