A Soft Scent of Damp Earth

A cool drift of garden air pulled me toward the low window ledge. I eased slowly across the smooth floorboards until I reached the base of a terra-cotta saucer. Inside, a tiny patch of damp potting soil had spilled. Without rushing, I let my squishy purple base settle into the crumbly, dark grains. The gritty coolness clung to my folds, absorbing the gentle weight of my rest. One of my tiny black beetles crawled forward, nudging a speck of moist bark, while a pale maggot tucked itself quietly against the earthy rim. We stayed completely motionless, savoring the wet, fragrant chill.