When a Walnut Falls

When a walnut falls, it is . . .
           A sure sign of the autumnal genesis.
           A probable dent in an unlucky car.
           A chore for neighbors whose lawn hosts its sire.

When a walnut falls, it can be . . .
           A hazard to the cyclist who dodges it on the shared path.
           An invitation to the boy who finds it.
           A meal to be stored by the industrious squirrel.

When I was a kid, we took five-gallon buckets into the woods to pick up the walnut harvest.  Dad then scattered our collection across the #3 limestone of the back drive where he parked his truck. Driving across the hulls daily freed the hard inner shells to later be picked up and cracked open, revealing a meaty snack.

When a walnut falls, it is . . .
           A portent of winter to come.
           A provision of nutrients in a fallow season.
           A promise of next generation sapling, tree, wood, furniture and trim.     

When a walnut falls, it is . . .
           An invitation to ponder.
           A sign to observe.
A contribution to consider.

When a walnut falls, it is . . .
           A prompt for a poem.
           A drumbeat in nature.
           A deposit from above.       

© Daniel M. Cash 2025