Hey, It’s Spring

It was touch and go for a while, but the lilacs are finally blooming, the ovenbird has resumed his mid-wood teachings, and the cemetery groundskeeper is once again out there on his riding mower, maneuvering between the pearly stones, cutting the serene lawn. All flesh is grass, they say. And speaking of grass, a swath of it in Mud Meadow was washed away in last winter’s “big melt.” I’ve been planning to reseed it for months. Today seemed like a good day to do it. I had plenty of grass seed to spread but no mulch to cover it, so I got into the car and drove to the hay bale store.

I walked in. Standing behind the counter was a smiling woman of indeterminate age. She was wearing a floral print popover blouse and matching ponte pants. I told her I needed a hay bale.

“Now what exactly do you need this hay for, Hon? I’ll tell you right now, we only have mulch hay.”

“I need mulch hay.”

Her smile widened. “Oh good! You’ve come to the right place. What do you need it for?”

I told her.

“One bale ought to do you.”

“I’ll take one hay bale,” I said.

“That’ll be four dollars, Hon.”

I paid in cash and she called over a young store employee named Eddie. She told him I had just purchased a hay bale.

“Congratulations!” Eddie said, extending his hand. I shook it. His blue work shirt and jeans were flecked with bits of grass and seeds. He told me to drive my car around back of the store to the barn. That’s where they keep the hay bales.

I headed toward the door. The smiling woman behind the counter said: “You enjoy this fine spring day, Hon!” I smiled back.

I drove my car around back to the barn. Eddie was already there with my hay bale. I pulled up and he hoisted it into the back of the car, raising a cloud of hay dust. It smelled like the ghost of last June. I sneezed.

Eddie smiled. He shook my hand again and waved as I drove off. I waved back. When I passed the cemetery, I waved to the groundskeeper on his riding mower. He waved back. I got home and unloaded my hay bale. The ovenbird was still warbling his teachings. The air was fragrant with lilacs. Spring was truly here.
©John P. O’Grady
Originally appeared in The Mountain Eagle on May 21, 2021