Sunday, June 24, 2007

Apologies to the cactus

A few Sundays ago, a new neighbor from two doors down knocked on the door with an offer of cactus. I refrained from asking why I was so special, and just was relieved I was clothed. But I soon found out that another neighbor told her that I respected cacti.

She gave me an enormous six foot high cactus, which I kept in a pot in the front yard, until Jim moved it to the side yard. And there it sat, mainly because neither of us wanted to figure out how exactly to give six feet of spines out of a pot and into the ground in a hundred degree heat.

But, then, last week, it seemed to produce two flowers from little tufts of cactus hair. I was shocked as I had been abusing the plant and withholding not only direct sun, but water. But then cacti like a little abuse. Ask anyone.

I've been trying to notice changes in nature, but these blooms were completely unexpected, so much that I was stunned into silence when I saw them.

The next day, the cactus produced two enormous blooms, each bigger than my spread hand, and aromatic too. Again, I was stunned into silence.

I'm afraid the cactus might think its days are numbered and so it must reproduce. So I gave it some water. I might have to find a place in the ground for it too.

I'm sorry, cactus.