November 18

Hard rain brought down more cones; spruces just across the road now litter the street, some getting caught in the small stream which forms in the shoulder with the heavy rain. They make their way down Grove, some slowing in the small eddies or sandbars of silt. Most only travel a dozen feet or so before coming to rest where the shoulder berms against the roadside.

Across from Sunset Lane there is a large white pine on the old Prentiss property. It too has shaken loose its reluctant cones, brown and closed tightly on the ground. These cones were green last spring, spotted with pitch that smelled of familiar deep woods, waiting to be touched by the clouds of pollen released in May.

Now the cones are dry, and we collect handfuls of them to place by the woodstove. They will open slowly in the dry heat, spilling forth small seeds, and we will use the remnant cones as crackling additions to the going fire.