It was a bright and sunny Saturday morning. Tulips were blooming, squirrels were all a’skitter, my allergy-prone nose was running ninety-to-nothing, and workmen were in my yard leaning on rakes at $18 an hour. You might know I’d be anxious to remedy that! They were waiting to get started on spreading 60 bags of mulch, which I was belatedly on my way to reserve and pre-pay so they could pick it up and get started. Rush ... rush ... rush, and oh my aching back.
My allergy-prone nose was still doing its thing, and my well-being candle had burned to a nub by the time I got back from Lowe’s, where pretty much the entire Edmond population was buying garden stuff. I walked the full length of the garden shop twice looking for mulch, and the full width of Lowe’s insides at least that many times looking for plastic bags and a couple of trowels.
I’d be there yet if a jolly little woman employee hadn’t approached from my right, taken my hand, said, “Here, let me help you,” and proceeded to walk me down aisle after infernal aisle in search of trowels (which are on aisle 28) and plastic bags (which are on aisle 17, not on aisle two as I’d been told) until we’d found what I needed. By then I was dragging, but the jolly little woman employee holding my hand was still ... well, jolly. I wanted to take her home with me for moral support, but she turned loose and left me at the cash register.
Long story short, most of the mulch got spread before quitting time and, before they ran out of mulch, all but one flower bed in the back had been covered in little more than an hour the next morning. I didn’t care. My back was killing me; my allergy-prone nose was still doing its thing, and the sofa was looking good. So that’s where I was lying that afternoon watching a video, when a roaring wind whipped up and hail, rain and displaced mulch descended all at once.
I switched to the weather report and tornado watches popped up on the screen, but that didn’t happen. What happened was that the temperature dropped out the bottom of my back porch thermometer that night; blooming tulips took a beating, squirrels scurried back to their winter quarters, my allergy-prone nose dried up, and I offered a prayer in behalf of my irrigation system, which had escaped freezing over the winter but was in jeopardy of succumbing to a spring freeze.
It didn’t, and I’m OK with Easter Sunday’s predicted rain if it amounts to no more than a drizzle. Just please, Mr. Weatherman, keep it above freezing ... and no more wind until after my mulch settles in.
MARJORIE ANDERSON is an Edmond resident.