Inside the Flowerpot

I walked from the hose spigot along the dirt furrow of the raised garden bed. Halfway down the timber frame, a heavy terracotta pot lay overturned on its side among the loose soil. Its circular mouth formed a dark, rounded archway. I stepped inside. The curved clay shell blocked the overhead sun, and the air immediately turned cool. I planted my boots firmly on the packed earth and struck the inner rim once with the blunt butt of my axe. A low, ringing tone hummed through the clay and faded into the soil. I sat down against the curved wall, holding my axe across my lap.