Zadie’s Cactus Button — Every day, Zadie tucked a chipped clay button under her wing and visited the cactus canyon before the sun made the stones smell like toast. Read the full story →
Every day, Zadie tucked a chipped clay button under her wing and visited the cactus canyon before the sun made the stones smell like toast. She tapped the button on one saguaro bloom—plink—and waited for the tiny echo that meant, “No surprises.” Until one day, the button answered with a sneeze.
Because of that, Zadie poked the blossom with one antenna. Pollen puffed over her face, and the cactus muttered, “Wrong door.” Because of THAT, she tried the next flower, then the next, each one making a sillier sound: hic, honk, tweep! A lizard below laughed so hard his tail drew commas in the sand. The button was not a button at all, but the missing knocker for the canyon’s secret joke-mail.
At last Zadie knocked on the highest bloom. “Delivery for the sun!” she called. The saguaro boomed a golden chuckle, and warm light spilled down the ribs of every cactus. If you spot Zadie by the flowers, keep watch: that chipped clay button may be ready to sneeze again before the stones smell like toast.
