The weather reports are full of frost warnings for tonight, one day after the average last frost date for our part of the state. But I’m not complaining. No, no, no, definitely not. Never. Not me. No way.
But I’m feeling so sorry for the two poor deer who wandered across our lawn this morning. Cold, shivering little creatures, longing for spring was written all over their frozen faces. I felt so sorry for them I almost cried. But I regained control and grabbed my camera so I could take a picture of their tundra-weary faces through the picture window in the living room.
Maybe you won’t believe this, but I’m even feeling a little sorry for the asparagus. A whole passel of stalks emerged over the weekend, and they could get their tender tips nipped but good tonight. What a loss.
My greatest concern is for the magnolia. This morning I asked Hiram if we could cover the bush tonight and save the blossoms, which have been on hold for the better part of a week now, waiting to for one warm day in a row. He looked at me with his what-was-I-thinking-when-I-asked-her-to-marry-me look and said, “There’s no way to cover a tree.”
In my mind, the whole issue boils down to a matter of semantics. If he would call it a bush, there would be no problem covering it. If he insists on calling it a tree we’ve got problems. And since he’s the one who has to climb the ladder, me being quite afraid of heights, to cover the top of the bush, we’ve got problems.
There’s the frozen venison on the lawn, the asparagus shivering in its little green boots, semantic squabbles threatening our marriage, and my fear of heights which has rendered me unable to save any magnolia blossoms taller than me.
Good thing I’m not complaining about the weather today. I’ve got enough problems the way it is.
