a new harvest

Every spring, farmers sanguinely plow the fields and spread seeds cheerfully like confetti. Looking up to the clouds, they do a little boogie woogie dance in their overalls, beseeching the rain clouds to bust and feed their beloved seedlings. Sometimes these  dance  offerings are fruitful, and the rain comes down good and hard. This year was different. Clouds never came. Rain never rained.

The barren crops withered and the embers swirled in the wind. Corn pops were not available in the grocery store, as the long lines of Corn Pops crop dried up. Children were disappointed as they were served up gruel in lieu of their savory corn syrup enriched cereal.

Farmers sat on the steps of their stoops, heads in their hands, and looked to the sunny sky. With no relief in sight, they gave up on the dancing and the crops and the breakfast cereal.

But instead of belly aching and bemoaning the current husbandry hiatus, one man made a plan. He tapped his fingers on his cheek, chewed on some stray hairs of hay, pulled up the arms of his flannel shirt and got to thinking. He reasoned that he needed to grow something not so fickle, a crop that didn’t need loads of Poweraid or water. It would be nice to have more time for Chinese Checkers and less time fussing over plants.

Then the bolt of lightening knocked him off his stool. Yahtzee. He went to his local retailer of lawn supplies and filled up a cart. He gave a toothless grin to the cashier as he rolled his cart of hot pink plastic to the parking lot. He drove his Grapes-of-Wrath-like truck up the grassy hill where his white – planked house sat.

He plotted the new garden right in his front yard. With this newfound proximity, he wouldn’t have to wake up early and trudge to the other end of his property. Then the real work began, prepping the crop and the subsequent planting. It was back breaking work with the constant leaning over and adjusting spokes. But at long last, the return of his labor was revealed. There lay in his front yard a menagerie of birds, a sea of pink, a harvest of lawn flamingos.

They were contagiously colorful and brought a lot more toothless grins.

Tagged ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: