The war is on again.
The air is filled with floating seeds carried by their white feather-like parachutes. Pappus. This is proper word for the floating seeds. A specific image requires a specific word.
All day, all weekend, all week I have been bombarded as the seeds have wandered in through open windows and doorways. When I notice them, I always try to collect them and throw them out the window so that they might find fertile ground.
It is a losing battle.
For every 1 I catch, 2 escape me. But still I try to make what little difference I am able while outside the window it is raining white as sunlight catches on the parachutes. It is to be an invasion in a few weeks once the seeds that make it past the windows and the crows finally settle down.
I wonder if I will be here to see what comes next. I am leaving in just a few short weeks. Time enough for the seeds to sprout?
But there is a bigger question, there's always a bigger question: Will I even care then?
The air is filled with floating seeds carried by their white feather-like parachutes. Pappus. This is proper word for the floating seeds. A specific image requires a specific word.
All day, all weekend, all week I have been bombarded as the seeds have wandered in through open windows and doorways. When I notice them, I always try to collect them and throw them out the window so that they might find fertile ground.
It is a losing battle.
For every 1 I catch, 2 escape me. But still I try to make what little difference I am able while outside the window it is raining white as sunlight catches on the parachutes. It is to be an invasion in a few weeks once the seeds that make it past the windows and the crows finally settle down.
I wonder if I will be here to see what comes next. I am leaving in just a few short weeks. Time enough for the seeds to sprout?
But there is a bigger question, there's always a bigger question: Will I even care then?
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