Unexplainable

GREEN DOOR

 

Spring springs from the earth earlier than usual this season. I see the first tips of tulips breaking thru the rich top soil on March 1, before the snow is quite finished melting. How I love this time of year when
the cold winds of February are heading north until November.

 

Mrs. Ferguson, a lovely young woman who lives a few doors from my family's home, is parading her still swaddled babe in the comfortable straw perambulator that had been kept in her basement until the time was right to bring it and the babe outside. 'Good morning', I say to Mrs. Ferguson. 'May I peep at your precious baby?' A smile a mile wide lights up her face. She bends over the carriage and gently lowers the soft pink blanket enough for me to see two wide awake big blue eyes that dissolve in my own memory of my early walks with my Conrad who is now almost twenty one. I can feel my neighbor's joy, her pride. She nods to me, walks down the lane and I return to look again at the tiny greenery poking their heads into the warming sun.

 

A yellow buttercup standing alone on a pale green stem wasn't there before. It's rapid break thru, it's height and strength somewhat shock me, even alarm me. It is too soon for buttercups! The cherry tree my husband Josh planted for me, Mothers' Day, five years ago, took instant root and has been bearing deep blood red cherries for the last three years. Green buds are bursting today. The limbs are already showing signs that this year we may gift cherries to the entire neighborhood.

 

There is a slight sound near my feet. I lower myself to listen and believe something is moving there. I step back a foot or two and see a miracle. Earth worms are leaving the earth, I never liked worms very much and back away. While I know the wonders they perform, they still are creepy and I return to my kitchen.
After a nice dinner and bedtime with Josh, I sleep like an angel must sleep. In the morning my side of the bed barely needs to be made. Josh's side and the middle mean re-do the entire bed once Josh leaves. He listens to my story about the cherry tree almost ready to bear
fruit and the march of the earthworms. He shudders at that, gives me a lick and promise kiss and goes to work. It doesn't take long to be thru with house work. I put on a garden outfit with big pockets on the apron, take three packs of Burpee seeds along, and consider what to put where. In the afternoon, I'll stop at Gloria's Garden Showcase.

 

Josh always comments about the wonderful smell of the gardenias I put in two years ago. There is room for another bush and Viburnum. This is my day to make our garden even better than usual as it looks good for early planting. I dig a few holes, water them and drop the Burpees in circles, go on to clearing what is left of winter. Dirt gets under my finger nails, mold is on my wrist. Accidentally I cut an earthworm in half. A little dizziness makes me stop and sit down on the dampish ground. Clouds begin to cover the sun. A chill sends me inside. I put my apron and other paraphernalia in the basement, go upstairs to shower and scream a curdling scream. An earthworm is in my undies.  Pulling many sheets of toilet paper from the roll, I get hold of the wiggling worm and toss it down the toilet.

 

My shower is waiting. I feel so odd. Something pricks my back and I rub it, look at my hand and gasp because my fingers are green. More soap, wash cloths don't take away the green. My robe is on the hook across the room. Naked I try to reach it but cannot move. Rose bush roots are slowly going thru my toes. Hobbling I reach the bathroom door and it is green, green as April's grass.

 

I hear Josh pull into our garage, hear him come inside and call me. I answer like the wind. The door moves a little. I do not. Josh is going into the kitchen for a snack.

He calls me again, 'Lynn, where are you? What the heck is all that green stuff on the front door?' I lie on the bathroom floor and wait to be found.