Huffing and puffing up a steep hill, the sound of my steps became crunchy. A host of small acorns had dropped from oak trees and rolled down a front yard. They spread themselves over the sidewalk. It was a study in browns, pale to almost-black, reddish to yellow. Cars zoomed by as I examined the stripes and marveled at the caps, some detached, others still snug on the acorns. The overlapping pattern of the caps, similar to a pine cone, is imbued with whimsy. Can you look at those caps and not think of roofs for fairy homes or headgear for wood sprites? Magical images kept me company all the way home.