11th day -- Blisters and rattlesnakes

I don't believe the sky today could have been a more brilliant true blue and the icy air was crisp to the point of cracking. To use a cliche', it was a perfect autumn day. I had not planned a trip to the park, but that spontaneous decision proved to be productive: my grandson acquired greater proficiency on his week-old training bike (see day 5), and I took not only the photo for this blog but also a short trip down memory lane.

I can never see honey locust seed pods such as these, either ripe or green, without remembering back into the days I spent with neighborhood kids playing in our backyard. Our neighbors had a huge, thorny locust tree, many of whose branches reached out over our yard, providing not only shade but also baskets full of twisted seed pods. Some of the pods met their ends when we kids would pluck them from the branches, still in their green stage, and pick the soft seeds from their pods just like shelling peas. Then we would carefully remove the first waxy layer from the seeds and split it in half lengthwise. When we stuck the translucent, dome-shaped pieces onto our fingers and the pads of our palms, it appeared as if we had magnificent blisters that even felt like real skin.

A few weeks later we could mimic the sound of rattlesnakes by shivering the now-hardened seeds inside their long, curvy dried pods. And if we felt impish, or even down-right mean, those large hard seeds made great ammunition for sling-shots and blow guns.

Today I would display the deep maroon pods only for decoration in wreaths and centerpieces -- creations for admiration and memories.