 |
| Rhubarb In The Garden |
Cougars and headless deer aside, it is colder than cold here. I live in a kleenex box. This means that I have to work closely with the elements. I am huddled under a blanket with a heater as I write this thinking about the signs of spring I am seeing around me and feeling much like a frozen bud myself. I contemplate the paleontology sites where mammoths and saber tooth tigers are flash frozen to the spot with grasses in their belly and wonder about ice ages and will they find morning pastry and papaya in mine. The rhubarb is showing a pink tip through the snow and the snow drops are all in bloom. Yesterday, encouraged by this show of daring, I ventured forth and pruned the fruit trees and then raked away the fallen branches from the winter storms.
I am wondering what my tenant must think of me for I have an affliction. It is a startle reflex of some proportion carried forward from childhood. When he comes upon me and I am unaware I jump a mile and scream. I quickly apologize and continue normally with whatever I am doing. He seems to take it in his stride for it has happened numerous times and he sports an impassive veneer accompanied only by the barest hint of a twist to the mouth. I have realized only lately that he has been chopping wood for me every now and again. Now that really startles me. Not only has it taken a long time for me to notice but the fact that he has quietly and occasionally been doing this without pointing it out to me is something I have not very much encountered. Seriously, I think there is hope.