I Dream of Wellingtonias [also known as Giant Redwoods] by Sally Evans The tweezer shape of double pine needles that softened the floor, when ground was nearer or fixed to twigs which carried tight green cones, the green of paint, of lead paint. The crossed bill of a bird. The bend of a hairpin, a fishhook. Surely it was a dream I carried with me. We had strolled round a park full of Wellingtonias, the dream suddenly noticed from days ago. I took dropped cones, saying the seeds would grow. Seeds do grow, but these would take so much space becoming Wellingtonias. Where would the space come from as the seeds grew? When I was a kid, the Encyclopedia said that if you folded a piece of paper a certain number of times, it would reach the moon by a magic of number doubling. I tried so hard, folding and folding last week's pink cover of Sunny Stories and drew to a wise but young conclusion: Some of what they tell you is pish. And yet. Double pine needles cover the floor. I bend to them and pick up cones that are open. I shake them onto white paper. I nurture those tiny black specks. Gyroscope Review 9 !