A Tap on Terracotta

I walked behind the shed and pulled myself up onto the weathered planks of the potting bench. Sitting flat in the afternoon warmth was an inverted terracotta saucer, dusted along the lip with dried garden lime. I brushed away a smear of dry peat with the side of my palm, feeling the rough, porous clay take the heat. Planting my boots square on the gray cedar, I gave the curved rim an unhurried rap with my knuckle. It kicked back with a solid, dry pop that carried low through the wood. A good, grounded piece of earthenware to rest beside while the afternoon rolls on.