Walking between the broom bushes at The Meeting of the Waters, the bunches of dried seed pods rattled with a cabasa-like rhythm as we brushed alongside them. I picked a few to take home to sample as rhythms. Perfect.
I left them on the dashboard shelf in the sunshine while we went for coffee. When we got back, you could hear the cracking reports as the pods exploded and little seeds ricocheted around the car. The heat had made them ripen rapidly and burst open: no more little rattly sounds, unforchly.
The pods completely emptied themselves, excited by the potential for seeding the new territory of the car interior unchallenged by competing plants, or predators.
Ho hum.
I did see a gigantic shiny silver river-trout leap into the air and flip over before splashing back into the North Tyne though; that was pretty spectacular.
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