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epitome of incomprehensibility
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Even as the garden's growth winds down for the fall - with only some radishes, carrots, and herbs remaining - it's life-affirming or something to find seeds in dry stuff.
A section of pea plant, all dried grey, comes off in my hand. Toss it in the stick pile? Not yet. First shake it to see if there are any peapods. A rattle! Yes.
As I'm finding its spot, I recall how the phrase "death rattle" scared me when I first heard it. It refers to when dying people's breaths rattle. There's a physiological reason for that. Anyway, the idea that you could know that you were about to die (if you were conscious) frightened me. Or maybe it was more about a witness's point of view, seeing someone else about to die. Maybe both. And then the phrase itself creeped me out, conjuring an image of the instrumental kind of rattle, like a raspier death-tolling bell, to be carried by some skeletal figure. Maybe also the thought of a deadly rattlesnake, though I'm far from their habitat here.
But now the phrase gathers a happier, goofier association: the rattle of the peapod. This death rattle means the seeds of a new life. Paradox, the hard consonants like the sound of dried peas.
Keep away from Mom, or she'll Christianize the thought. It is not to be christened. It is to be given away, sold, or planted. For now, it is to be pried apart and the hard yellow or green balls placed in a small clear plastic cylinder that used to contain her blood sugar medication.
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