Tiny Dead Unicorn

Do not let the title put you off. This story is entirely G-rated.
No unicorns were harmed in its creation.

Kay and I have spent the last hour out in our little front yard, cleaning up last fall’s leaves, and grasses that I didn't get around to keeping trimmed from around the perennials I had planted there. Eventually this small patch of earth – surrounded by cement on all sides – will be a mixed bed of flowers and other leafy vegetation.

There are a couple dozen perennials in it now. Some I brought from the parsonage on the other side of the state. My peony, a pink single, has traveled through three moves now, leaving a larger piece of itself behind as I bring a segment to our new home. I also brought varieties of herbs, hostas and daylilies, as well as coneflowers, Siberian irises, poppies, bulbs... (Okay, I like to play in the dirt.)

Other plants I bought during Appleton First’s plant sale last June. (I went in disguise since officially I didn't begin serving there until July.) Still others I picked up here and there. Not everything made it through our mild winter. Last week I discovered that my rugosa rose was dead though I could see no cause. I will have to contact the seller about a replacement.

So, anyway, Kay and I were out in the yard. She was picking up brown leaves from river rocks where privets recently grew (Out, out, out!) as I raked around the new plant growth as carefully as I could. That’s when I heard her say what sounded like, “Tiny dead unicorn.”

??? !!!

Now, as someone who once taught band and choir, and that after spending the years between age ten and twenty-two playing in large bands (think loud noisemakers), I’ve known for a couple decades that I understand people better when they enunciate well and/or face me. Kay’s speech tends to fall away at the ends of her sentences. But, still, “Tiny dead unicorn”?

I turned around to see her bent over something next to the front porch steps. I approached her as I asked, “What did you say?” Bending over next to her, I both heard her say, “Tiny earthworm,” and saw the aforementioned creature. It was tiny.

“That’s a lot more reasonable that what I heard!” I told her and we shared a laugh.

Here in the northern hemisphere, it’s the season of awakening gardens and earthworms. I treasure both, and hope you do the same.