Spinning Blades

I slipped through the screen door and crossed the sun-warmed pavers to reach the raised garden bed. Anchored deep in the soil among sprigs of rosemary stood a miniature metallic pinwheel. Pausing on the cedar rim, I watched a stray gust send its petal-shaped blades into a swift blur. As the air stilled, the wheel shuddered to a halt. I leaned forward and flicked the lowermost blade with a swift tap of my claw. It took off spinning with a crisp, rhythmic rattle, stirring a pleasant draft right across my face.