“Daffodils are looking good, Tom!”
Paula Gentry from a few houses down waves with a mittened hand as she walks her Retriever. I could tell they were both disappointed I was outside. He likes to fertilize my lawn and Paula uses the time to be nosy. Honest to God I saw her look in my mailbox once.
I wave before I can stop myself and pray she doesn’t take it as an invitation to chat.
She doesn’t. I look up and see her wiggling up the street so I start breathing again.
Daffodils were Judith’s favorite thing in the yard and I remember her on her knees digging holes, dropping bulbs, filling holes, and waiting. They bloomed in time for Easter their first year and I must have taken thirty pictures of Judith with them before I got one she liked. It’s still framed on the mantel.
Paula would surely ask about it if I ever invited her in…which I won’t. She should ask why they’re blooming in September…a better story than Judith’s picture.
I grab the shovel and dig them up like I do every day.