I fall gracefully from the cold sky with six delicate arms, yet no two of my kind have ever shared the exact same pattern. What am I?

I am a fresh green leaf that brightens your hot tea, but I am also a place where shiny Irish coins are stamped into existence. What am I?

My first half is a wooden box for holding treasure, and my second half is a hard-shelled tree seed. Together, I am roasted over open fires in late autumn. What am I?

I am filled with single letters like A, B, C, and D, yet I tell no stories. Instead, I tell your parents how well you performed in class. What am I?

What do you call a very polite greeting given to a person from Dublin wearing a neon hoodie?

What kind of wheels do you look at when you want to read the news?

Take away my first four letters and I turn into a heavy boulder; put them back and I become a three-petaled emblem of Irish heritage. What am I?