Saturday, May 23, 2015

Prickly pear

Several years ago, when we were walking home from his school, E and I came across a huge prickly pear cactus that had been hit by a car. Cactus pads were scattered all over the curb and in the street. We took a folder out of his backpack, put a pair of pads on it, and carried them home. While we were walking, we made up a song:

Prickly pear, prickly pear,
I've got a pair of prickly pear.
Prickly pear, prickly pear,
I've got a pair of prickly pear.

Prickly pear before me,
prickly pear behind,
prickly pear to the left and right,
prickly pear on my mind.
Prickly pear above me,
prickly pear below,
prickly pear to the sides,
prickly pear on the go.

Prickly pear to the north,
prickly pear to the south,
prickly pear to the east and west,
prickly pear in my mouth!?
Prickly pear in the morning
and in the afternoon,
prickly pear in the evening,
prickly pear sometime soon.

When we got home, we planted the pads on the edge of our front yard. They rooted and grew, but it wasn't the best spot. Every time a pad got knocked off by a wayward soccer ball, we'd dig another hole and drop the pad in.

This spring, we moved the prickly pears to the gaping hole left behind by a giant rosemary bush that hadn't survived the cold winter. It's a much better spot, and the cacti are bursting with baby pads. I've posted photos of baby prickly pear pads before, but they're just so darn tender and green that I'm posting more this year.

Farewell, frozen rosemary behind the fire hydrant; you grew beyond our wildest expectations.

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