I’ve been doodling around in the garden quite a bit lately, trying to rake away about a thousand years of fircones that fall endlessly from this monster of a tree that takes up far too much space for my liking. It’s been taking so much space in the real world that its presence has even seaped into my own personal space.
I’ve been trying to do some amateur quantity surveying, attempting to work out just how much firewood we would have if we could ever get the thing cut down without destroying our house or killing the neighbour’s dogs. Although since they seem to spend all their time locked up in cages, barking ceaselessly at everything that moves and most things that do not, I’m not sure they would actually object.
Anyway, this tree is fucking huge, and continues to cause me constant raking expeditions.
It was on such expedition that I noticed something: lodged firmly in the craggy bark is a rather small fircone. How this fircone got there is either a complete mystery or a freak of nature. The only possible explanations I can think of are:
1. The fircone fell with such a force (perhaps accompanied by a vicious downwind) that it simply burrowed itself into the bark, like an arrow.
2. A really angry three-foot squirrel had decided that there was more to life than eating fircones and running away from everything, and at the very moment of passing our tree had chosen to vent its animosity at said fircone (realising that his “running away from things” gene would never allow him to go a kick a small child in the shins).
3. The fircone had dropped on the ground many years ago, right next to the trunk. As the years passed it got slowly scooped up by the growing tree, and engulfed into its boosom.
The second option appeals to my sense of reality; however, I believe it’s probably something nearer the third. Whatever the reason, this truly shows that nature can deal the occasional joker. Compared to this, crop-circles are wank.