April MishMash

 Yes, mishmash is too a word. If it wasn’t a word, what did you just read? I rest my case.

April weather has been all over the place—which is kind of normal. I remember the Easters of my childhood often containing a little bit of everything; rain, sun, snow, some wind, perhaps a brief burst of hail—or as one of my sons referred to it as when he was little and observed hail falling on our back deck—“Look, Mom! Snow Skittles!”

April First has come and gone. I recall my dad’s love for April Fool’s pranks—one of his great successes was telling his teenaged daughter-- at sunrise-- that her horse got out. I dragged my sleepy carcass out of bed and into boots and came stumbling out to ask him in which direction my wayward steed had been headed only to have him triumphantly crow “April Fools!” Well played, Willis. Well played.

Johnny searchs for hanging blueberries

Easter was last week and I watched the next generation of kids and dogs, hunting Easter eggs. The weather was semi-co-operative and the egg hunt was held outdoors—not indoors. A much better locations, we can all agree. It’s a lot easier for the dogs to abscond with some delicious treasure that way.

The sun came out long enough that I was even able to mow my grass for the first time this year. And in related good news—my lawn mower fired right up. Hooray!

We have new neighbors here in my neck of the woods and they are lovely people. Which, in itself, is nice. They also happen to be lovely people with a tractor brush hog attachment, a dislike of encroaching blackberry bushes, and a willingness to subdue my unruly vines as well as their own. They say fences make good neighbors but I submit that tractor owning neighbors make good neighbors. I feel pretty fortunate to have a plethora a generous, tractor owning neighbors, and Dene and Gloria fit right in. Welcome to the neighborhood!

All in all, April is off to a good start.

April Fool's

My dad, Willis, was a big fan of April Fool’s Day jokes, much to my consternation. His idea of a joke and my idea of a joke were very different. He loved to prank, and I loved not to be the butt of the joke.

Taquita Ree circa 1977

One of his best April Fool’s pranks he cruelly sprung on me early one April Sunday. I was peacefully sleeping away---as one tends to do early on a Sunday morning, especially if the one in question is a teenager—when I was called abruptly back to earth by the sound of my dad calling my name. He called my name, said that my (redacted) (redacted) (redacted) horse was out, and added a few more colorful phrases about the wicked wiliness of my mare, and then observed that she was out on the road.

That last bit stirred me to action and I scrambled out of bed, felt around on the floor for some blue jeans---yes, I often kept my previously used wardrobe on the floor of my room. What can I say? I was the classic teenaged slob---and hopped out to the kitchen still pulling on my socks.

Where? I asked, squinting out the window, trying to locate the sorrel-colored blob that would tell me which direction I needed to head in to retrieve my wayward horse, shoving my feet into boots and hoping I wouldn’t need to stop and take precious time putting in my contacts. Even with my lousy vision I was pretty sure I could locate a horse-sized blob, if someone would just point me in the right direction.

It was about the time I was struggling into my jacket that I noticed Willis’ swearing was starting to sound a lot more like giggling. “April Fool’s!” he crowed, gleefully, “Gotcha!”

Ah. Yes. He did. What better way to prank your teenage daughter than to cause her to get up at dawn?

Me & the Li'l Trouble Maker

Well played, Willis. Well played.