The Edmond Sun
“Would’a, could’a, should’a” might be the most useless contractions in the English language — especially when preceded by “if only” — but I’m not letting that stop me.
If only I’d known what was coming, I would’a stayed out of Edmond’s seductive garden shops last weekend, but it’s been a long, cold winter and I couldn’t resist all those colorful flowery offerings begging, “Take me! “Take me!”
And so I did, and a flatbed trailer hauled it all to the house — 60 bags of mulch to start with (plus a carload of 20 more later), Begonias, Gerbera Daisies, a passel of those Knock Out red roses you see all over town, Clematis vines of every hew that still lack a trellis to climb on, Rose Moss, Creeping Phlox and some sort of prickly, dark burgundy-colored flowering plant that has the word “bell” in its name — and all of it planted in 90 degree weather by two strong men before a third man came to pick up my broken irrigation system.
I’ll pause here to give you time to reflect on what all of that means, the key words being “bedding plants,” “90 degree heat” and “broken watering system.”
If only I’d known the irrigation system was going to break down, I would’a held off on the planting until it was fixed.
I didn’t, though, and just look at how stove up I am now!
I should’a learned by now that you hardly ever get do overs in this would’a-could’a- should’a been world, but I obviously didn’t, because I dragged out the watering hoses and went to work, hoping to deliver my bedding plants from the jaws of death.
Not that I did any of the really heavy lifting, but dragging that extra-long, mega-pound watering hose around took its toll on me, plus, even playing foreman of a work crew requires the use of winter-bound muscles — several of which I didn’t know I had until after I’d been at the job from dawn till dark for two days — and I wouldn’t have been here with you at all today if it hadn’t rained on the third day.
Ah, rain! Glorious, drenching, work-stopping, thirst quenching, flower rejuvenating sheets of water fell from the sky on that day, taking up the watering job where I’d left off.
If only I’d known it was coming, I could’a ... indeed would’a ... certainly should’a waited for it in the house while writing a meaningful, uplifting column and babying my poor aching shoulders. Sorry, but you don’t get do overs either. This is it.
MARJORIE ANDERSON is an Edmond resident.