George Smith: The Great American Patio Spring is over
May 04, 2013 | 4200 views |  0 comments | 16 16 recommendations | email to a friend | print
-The Great American Patio Spring Non-Holiday work is now history at our house.

The blonde and Julia Burton, one of the great people I’ve ever known (I’ve said that before, but not today) were “out there” early and the clock hadn’t ticked off a Daytona second when ...

“Honey ... would you ...

I turned up the sound track (Merle Haggard was singing "My Momma’s Hungry Eyes") on the computer and did not answer. Fact is, I lifted my eyes toward the heavens with ...

“Dear Lord, please ...”

Didn’t work ...

“George SMITH! ... did YOU hear ME?”

I moaned, shut down Merle, and headed to the patio with ...

“Why me, Dear Lord, why me?”

It is no secret I was born a child of the dirt, didn’t like it from the first time I got behind a turning plow and a little mare mule. I headed for the bright lights of the city as soon as I was legal enough to leave my father’s heavy hand.

Don’t get me wrong here.

I loved my dad and he was a good man, but he’d worked like a dog all his life and saw absolutely nothing wrong in his first born doing the same. Fact is, I was 10 the year I met the little mare mule. And since my dad was a carpenter when he wasn’t sharecropping, I also had been introduced to a 16-ounce Bluegrass hammer.

Anyway, my appearance spread oil on the waters. Now it was ...

“Sweetheart, we need you to do just a couple of things ...”

The first thing was cutting back a perfectly lovely rosemary bush end of the driveway.

“Here’s the shears, George!”

I wondered whatever happened to “Sweetheart.”

To cut a long story short, the rosemary bush now looks as if it has been in a fight, which it has. I had no idea rosemary bushes could be so vicious. You oughta see my arms.

Anyway, bottom line is I mentioned the patio fountain needed to be brought on line, too. So, for the next two hours, I managed to “work” on the fountain. I even spent a lot of time out in the storage building looking for “Something I need.”

By then, it was lunchtime and two tired but stubborn women could find no fault with me making a run to Lenlock for burgers and fries. That took a good while, but other than a nasty look and “Where’ve you been?,” I escaped without bodily harm.

Now into early afternoon, it occurred to me I had some errands to run. Which I did. I also slipped in a 45-minute nap along the way.

All of which had me feeling pretty good ... until I walked out on the patio ...

“We’re through. YOU clean up!”

With that, the blonde announced she was getting a bath, a long one, and Julia Burton got in her car and left. No sweetheart, no darling, no dear. Zilch.

And quite suddenly, there WERE “things I needed.”

A leaf blower.

A garden hose.

A yard rake.

A yard broom.

A house broom.

A shovel.

A big dust pan.

Two plastic garbage bags.

And one other thing ... TWO hours to clean up the mess the blonde and Ms. Burton had left.

However, I think the blonde felt badly at the way her husband at been mistreated.

When I walked in the house “plumb wore out,” she was in the kitchen. I could smell baby limas cooking and she was mixing up cabbage slaw. She also had the cornbread “fixings” on the counter.

All was — and is — forgiven.

I think ... and pray.

George Smith can be reached at 256-239-5286 or email:
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