Acorns

I've always loved acorns.

There's so much potential wrapped up in an acorn. Just imagine! Those enormous, shady trees coming from this sweet little parcel. 

Amazing!

They always remind me of little faces with cosy hats. Sometimes I find my hands longing for a black marker when I pick one up. I want to draw a little face on it...and find a way of fashioning a little body somehow. 

When I was a little girl I loved picking up the little acorn "caps". I would think they were bowls for fairies. I'd fill them with flower petals and leave them under trees, imagining that the petals were sweet honeycomb that the fairies could eat. In my mind I could see fairies and imaginary woodland creatures wherever I went. I believed that the fairylands that I read about in my Enid Blyton books truly existed. 

Secretly......I still do.

But acorns hold a very special meaning for me. 

After my son was born, his Granddad (my late father-in-law) was holding him. He was holding his sweet little starfish shaped trident hands - which is a feature of achondroplasia. As he was holding my son and looking at his hands, my father-in-law said to him in the beautiful, quiet way that was just so him......

"He's a little acorn.
Remember what little acorns grow up to be Tim.
They grow up to be mighty oak trees."

It was one of the most beautiful moments I've ever witnessed.