Last year, on one of my parents’ visits to Nashville, my mom helped me plant some landscaping in my front yard. Among the plants we picked out was a pair of pretty little snow bell bushes, with bright green leaves and tiny white flowers. One of the bushes struggled to grow last year, so I was overjoyed to see it come back to life this spring. Miraculously, it was shaping up to be as big and flowery as its sister plant! Until Tuesday.
I came home from work to find that my beloved snow bell bush had been chopped down to nothing – all the way to the ground. Strangely, the other bush was left untouched. What on earth?
Immediately, I blamed Bryan. “That was a bush, not a weed!” I accused him in a text message. “It wasn’t me!” he insisted. But of course it had to be him, I thought. Who else would wander into our yard and cut down a bush?
“I weed whacked your yard the other day,” LaRhonda said to me, appearing from thin air. I was in the front yard again, planting some lavender bushes.
I looked up to see her standing in front of me, wearing her signature long, single braid and a bikini, black, printed with yellow and red flames.
“What?” I asked, registering what she had said.
“I was weed whacking my yard, and then I got to your yard, and I just kept on going!” she repeated. Then, she pointed to the remains of my snow bell bush. “I hope that weren’t a tree or nothing. I thought it was a weed, but I couldn’t tell for sure.”
“Oh, well actually – ” I started to reply, pondering her logic.
“Oh my,” she interrupted, looking past me now. “I had no idea there were construction workers over here today.”
I turned to face the direction she was, knowing that she was referring to the men building a house two doors down from mine. Their hammering and sawing had been echoing through the neighborhood all morning, just like it does every morning.
“Yep, they’ve been at it all morning,” I replied.
“Well, I guess I’ll have to walk down there and say hello,” she smiled. “How embarrassing that I’m wearing this bikini, though.” The glint in her eye betrayed her, and I realized her attire had been strategically selected for such a walk.
“Ok,” I laughed, deciding to address the bush another day. “Hope you make some friends down there!”
“I hope so, too,” LaRhonda replied. “Haven’t had much luck on my Match.com dates lately.”
I watched her adjust her triangle top as she walked away.