Beneath this poolside lounger, I spot a brittle comma caught in a flagstone crevice. I pick it up, hold it up to the sunlight, and count its veins, remembering that my mother called these whirlybirds.
As a child, I’d gather them in handfuls, and toss them into a gust to watch them flutter away like moths. Then, I’d give chase, hoping to catch the one that traveled furthest and put it in brown paper bag with the others – Call it my contribution to natural selection.
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Beats having children!
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Haha – interesting ending!
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Wow…haven’t thought about whirlybirds in a long time! Thanks for the memory. 🙂
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love the ending. about the natural selection,human and whirlybirds are not so different, i guess 🙂
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I loved those, too, as a child. I used to separate the two flaps at the end that held the seed and glued the whirlybird on my nose like a horn: I was the mighty unicorn.
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Over here we call them helicopter seeds, but the games just the same.
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