I finally caught a pine cone straight off a tree today. Been trying for almost 3 years. You get plenty of warning; Ponderosa pines are almost 100 feet tall, and the cones fall through the branches, so you hear them coming. I always look up, but until today, they were always too far away. I had several witnesses: Hap, Dana, Susan (a friend of ours), possibly Elsa, and Susan's kids Owen and Nora.

Standing on the back deck, only maybe 12 inches from the counter at the window, I heard the familiar sound, looked up, saw it coming straight for me (it would have hit me), had a momentary flashback to catching fly balls in the outfield: that moment you know you're in the right place, you can't possibly miss, and I got it. The fucker hurt, but I hung on. No blood, but the thorns scratched good. I can still feel it, several hours later.

The pine cone still has never been on the earth; I have it in a glass case on the bookshelf. I'll make a label for it and tie it to the cone so my great grand kids can wonder about what a weird guy I was.