MY GARDEN CODFISH
One day in autumn, as I was weeding the garden and collecting seeds, I happened to notice the funny shape of the snapdragon pods. As the day was sunny with a merry breeze, I said lightly to the plant in my hand, “Well, don't you look just like a codfish."
To my surprise, the hardened old snapdragon heard me and was deeply offended. "That isn't a very nice thing to say," he said gruffly.
"But, it's true," I insisted. "From the side you appear the very image of a codfish: two sizable eyes in the front, one gaping mouth hanging down."
This seemed to make him more upset, and the injured plant replied, "You ought to have a look at yourself sometime, walking about on two uprooted stems called legs. Codfish, indeed. Herrumpf!”
"Yes, I have legs," I freely admitted, "and how grateful I am for them, too—But you know what,” I added, “I don't want to fight. You may look like a codfish to me, but what's wrong with looking like a codfish? I hear they're quite delicious. Not that I would eat them—or you, for that matter.”
"Well, I eat codfish," he answered sulkily, refusing to be cheered.
"I suppose you do," I agreed, "But I don't eat snapdragons."
"Suit yourself,” he answered stiffly. Then we sat together in silence.
“Oh, how I love to eat fish," mused the old plant slowly, "and other things as well..." The odd change in his voice gave me a chill.
Just then, the wind quickened, and a shiver ran down my spine. I set the snapdragon down by the weed pile, zipped up my jacket and fastened the top button under my chin. Gray clouds were moving in, and the air began to smell of rain. As quick as I could, I placed my clippings and seeds on a sorting tray, and started for the garden house.
“Wait!” called the snapdragon from his place by the weeds, “What about me?”
Quickly, I turned, snatched him up, and laid him on the tray. Together we reached the safety of the garden house just as the rain began to fall.
Inside the house, I sat at my work table and looked over the different seeds I had gathered. Some were large, and some were small. Some were fine and hairy, like silk, and some looked like miniature helicopters. At the bottom of the tray I discovered tiny seeds that looked like flecks of dirt. “I wonder where these came from?” I said aloud.
“Ahem,” answered the old snapdragon from behind a stack of clippings.
Carefully, I picked him up and examined him more closely. As I tapped him over my open palm, little black snapdragon seeds speckled my hand like pepper. Now I understood why the plant was so grouchy—my disagreeable old codfish was full of seeds!
Each of his sturdy, fish-like pods were filled with hundreds of tiny snapdragon seeds, just waiting for a chance to germinate. Each seed, no bigger than a speck of dirt, hoped to grow another snapdragon, who would then hope to produce, as he had, hundreds, maybe even thousands of tiny black seeds.
As I shared with him the wonder of my discovery, the old stalk seemed quite pleased, and we ended our visit with a fond farewell. A mere thousand or so of his tiny snapdragon seeds now safely rest in a small cup on the shelf in my garden house, patiently waiting for soil. Where the others have gone to, I may never know.
I'm certain the wind and rain have carried a few into my garden already. Someday they may sprout up among my rose bushes or lettuces, or up through the cracks in the garden path. Oh, I hope to catch them as colorful snapdragons before they turn into--well, old codfish!
I caught some tiny fish today
Some hollowed bones, once full of life
Tethered, they surfed the autumn wind
Still craning towards the light
Though skeletons, they steadied on
Some ripe with Nature's gift
Their fruit they tossed upon the ground
And sailed the breeze adrift
