[The buds swell during April. The birds return and call forth the bees. The clarions announce the arrival. And then, one day, usually the first week in May …Kaboom. SB SM]
May
The sun is bright, but the wind is gusty. White clouds are streaming past.
“The soup’s good,” says Henry. He and Grace, wearing winter coats and gloves, are seated at the picnic table that is now in place on the backyard patio. Henry hired Manny’s son, Leo, to help him put the summer furniture and adornments out over the weekend. The boy was pleasant to work with, and, Henry guessed, more talkative and cooperative than if he’d been working with his own dad.
“So, did you really pour cement for the pea fence posts?” asks Henry.
“Damn straight! Those suckers aren’t going anywhere,” says Leo.
“Was it a misunderstanding, or did you do it to piss off your father?”
“Totally to piss him off! I’ve had one too many lectures on the importance of doing things right. He asked for a pea fence that would last a long time. He’s got one that will last forever plus a day.”
“Did he ever mention my philosophy of pea fences?”
“I don’t think so. What is it?”
“That a pea fence should only last a day longer than the day the last pea is harvested.”
“I like that, and it makes sense. Nature doesn’t build things to last forever. Nature makes everything just-barely-good-enough to do the job. What’s next on our to-do list?”
“Turning compost … you like turning compost?”
“Who doesn’t love turning compost?” says Leo. Henry appreciates both the work ethic and the sense of humor.
Henry and Leo get enough done in the morning that Henry sends the kid home before lunch. Now, he and Grace are enjoying their first outdoor lunch of the season.
“Let’s see who’s dining with us this afternoon.” Henry puts his phone on the table and opens up the Merlin app to identify the birds calling in the area.
“There’s the red-eyed vireo,” he says. “And there’s the nuthatch.”
“That crazy robin mother is still trying to build a nest on the front porch,” says Grace.
“Why doesn’t that stupid bird just wise up?”
“I keep telling her there are tons of other good nesting sites, but she just stands there with hay in her mouth, waiting for me to leave.”
“Mothers can be very obstinate.”
“Mother birds can be stubborn and stupid. How many times have we knocked down her attempts to nest there?”
The “there” is an overhang on their front porch. If left unattended for more than 36 hours in early spring, the mother robin will not only build a nest, but adorn it with her perfectly oblong, sky-blue eggs. If she makes it to this point, Grace and Henry acknowledge defeat and allow the nesting to continue.
Despite the fact that robins have a documented lifespan of only about 5 to 7 years, Grace and Henry have been conducting this annual warfare for well over a decade. While it’s fun to watch the ongoing care, feeding, and eventual fledging, the robin keeps the porch in perpetual shambles, and house guests have to be shooed away for weeks at a time.
“Mother Nature can be a pain in the ass,” says Grace.
“And a slob,” Henry adds.
“What’s on tap for the afternoon?” asks Grace, taking his empty soup bowl and handing him one of her chocolate chip oatmeal cookies. It adds just enough sweetness to take the edge off the increasingly raw afternoon.
“Thanks, love,” says Henry. “I’m laying the papers for the garden paths, and turning on the outdoor shower. You can have your inaugural shower of the season today.”
“Oh no, still too cold for me. Maybe Jody will be game.”
“When’s she arriving?”
“Sometime this afternoon. She’s staying overnight, then heading back in the morning.”
“Always good to see that girl. She bringing the dog?”
“I’m sure she will.”
Henry is laying the papers when the dog appears. “Laying the papers” is the process of putting down full sections of the local newspaper—accumulated since last summer—to form the base of paths for this year’s vegetable garden. Once the papers are laid, they are covered with a thick layer of hay. Over the course of the summer, the newspaper will rot into the soil and become part of the garden. Inevitably, the ritual provides the occasion to review the local events of the past year and remember another year of life passed.
There’s enough of a breeze that the process is going to be a challenge. Henry is just getting started when the dog trots up.
“Well, hello Beauregard! Good to see you!”
The dog—a large, handsome golden retriever—is in familiar territory and company, and allows himself to be cuffed about playfully.
“How you been, Big Guy? You going to help me? I bet you will. Where’s your lady?”
The General (short for General Beauregard) has been cooped up for two and a half hours on the car ride up from central Massachusetts, while Jody is likely inside with Grace.
Finally, Jody appears. She and Henry exchange bear hugs; the affection is palpable and real. “I’ve come to help,” she says.
“That’s good, because between the breeze and The General, I’ve made no progress at all. How’s everything at Court Street?”
“Never been better at the brewery. Wholesale continues to climb, and the pub sets a new record every month. Everybody’s talking about a slump in craft beer, but we’re not seeing it … yet.”
“The foundation of your brand is so strong,” says Henry. “You’re in a hotbed of colleges, and the brand has lots of momentum. You’re sitting on a goldmine.”
“I know, and I feel guilty about it!”
“Guilty? Why? You’re the one who built the business.”
“I know, but Burton started it. It was always his baby.”
“He wanted the real estate, not the business. He got what he wanted … you just happened to get the better deal.”
“And that’s why I feel guilty.”
“Like I said … he got what he wanted, the real estate, and he turned that into cash, and now he’s turning the cash into … did Grace tell you about the indoor golf empire?”
“Actually, he told me about it himself. I went to the Grand Opening for a bit.”
“Did you meet Quinn, the new Wonder Woman?”
“No, but I just heard about her. Sounds like another impossible dream.”
“Yeah… but how about you? What’s going on with you? Met Mr. Right yet?”
“No, I’m taking my time on that, but I have managed to meet several Mr. Wrongs.”
“Well, fair warning … anything happens to Grace, I’m coming after you.”
Jody laughs. She feels good.
Henry, assisted by Jody, finishes laying the papers, establishing the parameters of the garden. Henry’s last task of the day is connecting the outdoor shower. He’s been checking the local forecast, and the temperatures over the next ten days don’t get seriously below freezing. It’s time.
Henry opens the fittings, attaches the shower head, and brings out all the accessories from last fall: shampoos, conditioners, mirrors, razors, foot scrubbers, loofah sponges.
He says in his most unctuous voice, “Welcome to the Spa at The ‘Stead, where no pore goes unscrubbed.”
“Not exactly the lap of luxury here,” says Jody.
“Nothing’s more liberating than cleanliness,” says Henry, “but first you’ve got to get good and dirty. Let me go down cellar and turn on the water. Can you wait here for a second to make sure everything is flowing?”
“Yeah, sure!”
“Hang on. It will only take a minute.”
Henry grabs a set of offset pliers and disappears inside. After a minute, Jody hears his muffled voice from below: “Still there?”
“Still here!”
“Just let me figure out which valve is which … let’s try this … is that hot or cold?” Water starts gushing.
“Cold … oh, wait! It’s getting warm. Hot!” Another pipe begins spurting, catching Jody by surprise. “Ach!! Cold!”
“We have ignition!” Henry yells from the basement.
Jody manages to close the valves. A minute later, Henry reappears, all smiles. “We’re almost open for business.”
Ten minutes later, the overhead shower head is securely attached, the shaving mirrors are in place, and all the emoluments are in their correct positions.
“I’m ready to lather up,” says Jody.
“Grace gets the honor of first refusal,” says Henry.
Daylight saving time is in effect, but the earth has not yet reached the full-tilt boogie of its solstice. Grace is offered the inaugural shower, but declines and defers to Jody, who takes full advantage—staying in long enough to temporarily deplete the Stead’s hot water supply.
Afterward, the three of them, plus the dog, sit in the waning sunlight of the back patio. Jody is wrapped in one of Grace’s flannel nightgowns, wearing her own winter coat over top.
Henry pours wine into goblets. “A lovely Malbec,” he declares. “Someone must have brought it as a gift, because it looks more expensive than anything I would buy.” He empties the bottle evenly into their three glasses.
“To the first outdoor shower of the season,” says Jody.
They raise their glasses. Henry glances at his phone and at the eighteen species of birds that Merlin reports have joined them for this shared moment. “Oooo … we have a blue indigo amongst us!”
Grace looks out at a steely sunset behind the western treeline. “The buds are ready to explode, and they’re right on schedule.”
“At the moment, it’s peaceful and quiet,” says Jody.
“Except for the damn birds,” says Henry.
“But if it’s sunny tomorrow …” Grace takes a thoughtful breath. “…KA-BOOM!”
Jody takes it all in, deep into her lungs. “KA-BOOM!” She whispers.
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