Under the Walnut Trees

I never really thought much about walnuts. I like them, without a doubt. I consider them a fine addition to many breads and baked goods, and to bins of mixed nuts. I remember fondly certain instances in my childhood with nutcrackers and small, metal picks, cracking them open and extracting the meat. But of the story of a walnut before it reached my murderous hands, I never once thought.

Not long ago, the large, beautiful trees in our yard began to bloom, and then the blooms slowly gave way to small, green, spherical objects that the squirrels collected with excitement. Some of these fell into our yard. Sometimes I stepped on them as I walked to the garage. They had a leathery green skin, like that of an orange. Except... not orange. Green. Still, I didn't think much about them.

Recently, these spheres have begun to fall with much greater frequently and gusto. The trees, in fact, don't so much seem to drop them as hurl them forcefully downward with malicious intent. The little green bombs of doom bang off the roof and sides of our house every few minutes these days. They hit so hard, they cause a resounding crack or thud, which can be quite startling.

Finally, all the noise piqued my curiosity. What on earth were these little disturbers of the peace? It didn't take google long to provide me with an answer. Walnuts. Any of you who, like myself, have tried to crack a walnut knows how damn hard the shell is. Well, I can tell you they have to be that robust, to survive their violent journey to the ground intact. I imagine, if one were to fall on me, it would hurt quite a lot, and maybe cause a bruise.

So lately on windy days with the nuts falling thick as raindrops, I can't help but worry slightly about the squirrels.