January of last year, we stepped up to our porch to find this tiny pocket knife sitting on the top step. No idea where it came from. Then we just left it there. All year.
I took a few pictures.
January. First appearance.
February. Sun and creeping shade.
February. With snow and birdy footprints.
April. With small flower.
May. With raindrops.
July. Knife on top, walnut shell on bottom. I kind of pictured the squirrel who probably put the shell there finding the knife and squirreling it away for future tough nuts to crack. Or maybe for street fights.
August. I came out to find the knife gone one day. I thought the story was over. Then I was weeding the edges of our flowerbeds and turned and there it was lying in the grass.
So I put it back.
September. With turning leaves.
October. With rose.
December. With holiday lights.
January again. Under dog.
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