Wednesday, January 28, 2015

bring help

My sisters visit me every fall. The heat of summer has mellowed by then into brisk morning air and golden afternoons. Golden, lazy afternoons when the whole world breaths more slowly.
On a September afternoon, as they sat drowsily surveying the kingdom, they noticed a squirrel hasten out of the tangle of garden and head straight for the pumpkins.
Squirrels are everywhere in the fall, gathering things and burying things.
Not pumpkins though.
Right?

Not unless they think it is really a giant nut.
A giant golden nut.
The mother lode of all mother lodes.
Sure enough, the squirrel put both paws on the pumpkin.
Nope.
Couldn't roll it.
It put both front paws and then both feet on the pumpkin, spread out like a furry little starfish.
Nope.
Couldn't lift it.
That pumpkin wouldn't budge.
Not even a smidge.
Why in the world would a squirrel think it could lift a pumpkin, the size of a beach ball?
It gave it a try though.
Maybe next time it'll bring help.

2 comments:

Shari Morehouse said...

cute, this could be a kids story...

Glenda said...

Thanks, I'll ponder that.