The smell of fresh mulch…
Posted on | April 15, 2010 | Comments Off
The gardeners were outside and she smelled the mulch. It made her wonder what might have accidentally gotten into the mix. One never knew what went into the “chipper” and we all knew from movies whole bodies could be disposed of in this manner. Of course she knew the smell of decaying body, and this was definitely not it. This was more organic, more earthy, more like, mulch… and it made the flower beds look pretty and set the “stick” in the front off like it was a masterpiece instead of, well, a tree that looked like a kindergarten child had drawn it. Spring was taking shape nicely, the green leaves on the trees were beautifully formed, the bulbs were all in bloom, even the hostas were starting the upward journey to make their appearance later in the season. She was pleased.
The birds seemed extremely pleased as well with the way the world was forming around them although the owl that had been mentioned previously hadn’t been who’d from again. She’d hoped she had nothing to do with that. If she’d known this was the way to get the owl to stop waking her, she would have blogged about him much sooner. She just hoped he hadn’t met any foul play. Especially the wood chipper.
She found herself doing one of the things she hated most. When forced with a challenge, instead of making a decision, the decision of doing this or that, she would do nothing instead, and that, in turn, would be her decision. And she HATED when other people did that. And here she was doing that very thing. She had a myriad of things to catch up on, some of which were actually pressing matters, and she would sit in awe of the beauty of the trees when she just didn’t feel like dealing with anything. She could envision herself taking a walk, and truly enjoying that invigorating feeling she would get, but she didn’t get up to do it. She could envision herself cardio boxing on the wii and the wonderful workout and how good she’d feel, but she didn’t get up to do it. She could hear herself making phone calls, paying bills, but she sat and stared at her laptop or out the window. She’d almost made this room her own asylum of sorts, minus the drool running down her face. She’d have to do something about that.
She closed her eyes and then opened them just in time to see a bird soar across the spanse of the window, the trees blowing in the breeze. A bumble bee paused as if looking in, and then continued on its way. It was a nice day she thought…for those who didn’t end up in the chipper anyway.
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