|The remains of M. Cactus|
The day is gray and bone-chilled. Perfect day for a funeral. Since I have no pine box for M. Cactus, he's going into the ground in a paper bag. The bag is made from wood of some sort. It will do.
I said a few words over my sister's cat when we put her into the ground a few years back, but have never had a service for a cactus. After sorting through all the Things I get to do today for a proper ending for Monsieur Cactus, somehow the compost pile doesn't seem appropriate.
So bag in one hand and shovel in the other and with no words except "Thank You," I've invited my garden to accept what's left of this spiny plant. RIP.
But wait! The story writes itself another paragraph! My shovel tipped up three good-sized potatoes from the garden bed, volunteers from emptying my compost pail into the ground a year or so ago. A tiny miracle warms the cold, bleak day.