I’m definitely not an expert on trees. All I really know is that I have a lot of them. Messy ones at that. Oak trees that love to shed tons of leaves and acorns. Acorns of which I don’t pick up and sprout into more oak trees under a moist mound of dying leaves of which I didn’t pick up. It’s a vicious cycle man. One of which I realize I am in control if I’d choose to be. But I don’t.
Amongst all these oaks, I have two other trees, one is not a money tree and the other happens to be a pine. A scraggly, measly, thin little pine.
But do you see those specks?
All 4,562,566,748 of them?
Believe it or not, I think those are pine cones, being the expert that I’m not.
I am flabbergasted at all the stinking pine cones on this tree.
Pine cones that I apparently am not going to pick up.
I so wish you could see it in real life. It truly is mind boggling. When your mind is like mine, that is.
It’s always overkill around here.
If I attempted procreation, I’d probably end up with a litter.
Although if I had a money tree, I wouldn’t be complaining. You’d never hear me say one disparaging remark about its fruitfulness.
And I’d share my harvest with all two of you who read this thing.
Angel Wheeler 