Cactus has a sense of permanence about it. It grows slowly and is seemingly untouchable. But every so often when we’re not looking it pushes forth a new cycle of growth. Not the kinds of buds one is tempted to touch, nor the kind of plant one tends to reach into. But nonetheless, when the time is right, cactus continues.

Lovable it is not, though not all new growth is cute and cuddly, its unlikely nature amazes us. Just when you though it was old and done, at least well past its prime, it turns out to be youthful and procreative. Not inviting exactly, but interesting. Perhaps if I lived for hundreds of years, rather than a handful, this would seem normal to me. But I don’t, and it doesn’t. These creatures will live until I am well forgotten. And yet, in a strange way, they will still be young.