By Bonnie Brown

Columnist

You all may recall that we have a lovely Crepe Myrtle near our front porch.  It’s a beautiful, healthy tree that is full of blooms all summer long.  Those blooms drift across the porch almost as if snowflakes.  I have a lawn blower that I use to blow the Crepe Myrtle “snowflake” blooms off the porch.  This begins in late spring and continues into the fall.  Then, the leaves fall.  They, too, become the target of my blower.  

I say all this to share with you that my husband Tom swears he hears a neighbor (or perhaps neighbors) shout “Thar she blows” when I fire up the blower!  However, I have never heard any such utterance except from my husband.  It’s just a thing with me.  The blooms get tracked into the house and I simply don’t want to see the blooms settle on the porch.  

I am known to blow them off even in the rain.  I do this because if the rain stops and the sun comes out, these blasted blooms attach themselves to the concrete porch as if they are glued down.  But if the surface is wet, the blooms easily glide right off when I use the blower.  

Now, here’s the strange part.  I have shared with you all that I talk to myself—a lot.  I do this as a means to remind me of chores or things I want to remember and saying things out loud helps me to do this.  

Remember when we had all those days of rain not long ago?  I was out in a fine mist with the blower and realized that I was “talking” to the blooms and for whatever reason, I lapsed into a British accent, calling the blooms the “bloody blooms!”  So, what does this mean? 

Perhaps I have developed multiple personalities?  Maybe I’ve gone totally wacky, loopy, or dotty?  Completely unbalanced?  Do I have other traits that indicate that I’ve slipped away from the mothership?

Let’s review.  I noticed long ago that I am most comfortable when all the jars and containers in our pantry are labels forward.  Same for the refrigerator.  Do I lapse into nonsensical verbalization if things get out of order?  No, I do not.  I simply give the offending product a twist and get it back in sync with the other nearly-perfectly items that are labels forward. 

I admit that I can fold fitted sheets—and that I iron my pillowcases.  I have a few more idiosyncrasies that I best not mention in case there might be a mental health professional who reads my column.  

So, back to my lawn blower.  I mentioned to Tom that perhaps the Crepe Myrtle had lived a long happy life and that perhaps we should simply cut it down.  He asked “Why?”  

Good question, I thought.  I couldn’t really justify cutting the tree down (not that I could cut it down).  However, Tom did mention to me that he kept his ears open for the sound of the motors of our various pieces of equipment and that he would rescue the tree if necessary.  

Did I mention that when the blooms are done, the Crepe Myrtle sheds its leaves, and the leaves have to be blown off the porch?  Not to worry.  Tom keeps a pretty watchful eye on me in order to protect the tree.  We’ll see if the tree survives the brutal winter I’m predicting.  Stay tuned.