On my walk, I found a chestnut. I rolled it around in my hand and put it in my pocket. Then I realized spiny chestnut burrs were all around me. I was standing under a chestnut tree. When I was a boy, my friend John Norris’ family had a chestnut tree in their backyard. In the summer you could smell it blocks away. In the fall, burrs covered the ground. John showed me how to open the prickly burrs between my shoes, peeling them apart, revealing three or four shiny brown nuts. So this day on my walk when I found myself under a chestnut tree, I opened several burrs. And like any self-respecting boy, crammed as many chestnuts into my pockets as they would hold and carried them home, feeling rich.