More stuff from Bert's life

Mrs. Castle had time to garden. The rains had subsided two days prior and the ground had held onto the moisture well. She had treated herself many years ago to a pair of knee supports, but time was never available for her to dig them out of the garage.

Work had finally died down and time opened for her to find those pads, her trowel and some old soil in a green bag in the back, near her recycling bin. She felt slightly giddy, like discovering a five dollar bill in her winter jacket a year later. she threw everything intot her son's old, old, red wagon and headed out to the front yard.

Bert was responsible enough to keep the lawn mowed. She had aske dhim to week as well, but noticed he mere edged the weedaacker a bit closer to dandelions in response. He liked the outdoors, or so it appeared, for he took off his shirt during the time finishing his duties and seemed to like the schedule she proffered.

He had finished early this Saturday. He had fallen into baseball season and was treating himself to the time in front of the television.

She figured she'd work along the front of the house. A quick trip to the store had yielded simple, bright colored flowers to dot the black soil with purple, yellow and pink-red. They still were in their cheap plastic housing, waiting to enjoy a new home with their cousins, planted two years ago.

Mrs. Castle felt content with the memory of planting the flowers those days ago. Same feeling, but her knees bothered her. They continued to survive. She had not planted more, but instead fed them the right amount of fertizlier and water, all by hand, when the days became weary.

Still one patch, a place she knew things would find purchase, was empty. It was to the side of the house, behind a hedge, but in perfect sunlight. No one could see it from the street, but it was obvious from the dining room and the television room, so its enjoyment would not go unnoticed. That patch was today's goal.

She slipped on her kneepads and knelt exhaling further contentment.

She ceremonisiously put her trowel in for the firt scoop of the day. She had lain out her newspaper, so as not to mix up the different kinds of soil and replaced aleadhy the dry earth with the moist, white flecked style.

She surveyed and figured the yellow, a cautionary color, would go best in this corner.

The trowel tinked when it sank into the soil.

She grumbled, thinking she had dug to far down in her first scoop. She lifted and the earth moved before her in a larger heap.

The stone was the size of a small baseball and completely out of character for this area. She used the trowel as a lever and move it farther out.

It was a small skull. The shape was round, not oblong. This gave her small comfort, for her cat was buried much farther back behind the house, not beside it. This skull was not a cat skull or a human skull.

She could not place it. The flesh had warn away by many moons and was a dirty tan.

"Bert! Bert! Can you come here for a second?"

She felt her heart sink. She was trying to remember which pet had found it's final resting place in this side garden. She could not remember for the life of herself.

A window above her gaped open.

"WHAT!?!!" The anger was obvious. The cheers from the nearby tv chimed in accord. She could tell by the sound of his voice, Bert was looking forward at the game and not out to her.

"I found something here in the garden!" She responded, "Did we bury, ah, I'm not sure it is a cat or not, out here?"

"Bury? Bury? What are you talk..." Bert turned his head to this new ponderance and saw his mother's wide brim at and short overalls kneeling beside a black patch of earth.

"Hold on..."

He exited out the back of the house.