I love to gather seeds. Everything about the process makes me happy, from browsing a vine for ripe seedpods, to rolling and tapping those pods, or the stem of a dried flower head, between my fingers, watching dark seeds pour out onto a white dish, then sifting those seeds with my hands, letting the chaff be picked up and carried away by a breeze. I go into my head, and am perfectly content. Sensory bliss.
Have you ever reached down into a bag of wheat? Thousands of cool, smooth grains pressing, surrounding your hand; you lift your hand, and they pour out of your palm, dry, but moving like water.
So I'm nuts. But I like seeds (and nuts count, too)!
