It happened on a dark and lonely night last spring.
Homegrown Countryboy was away. I worked all day long in the garden. I wanted to get a big portion of the work done before he was to return. I tilled the soil, strung rows, and planted seeds. It was a day of standing, bending, crouching, kneeling, standing, walking, lifting, pushing, bending, and reaching. All the while I dreamed about the delicious bounty that would grow there. The grass looked greener and there were signs of new growth. I was thrilled to discover little buds showing on the fruit trees. My world was full of hope and expectations.
Finally, tired, sore, and sweaty, I soaked in a long, hot bath and crawled into bed.
Then I heard something that spooked me like nothing else ever could.
"Frost warning for tomorrow morning."
I held my breath. I laid perfectly still. "This can't be happening." I thought of those beautiful delicate little buds on the fruit trees.
But it was true. The weatherman said it again. And ominously, as if he was looking right at me laying there in my bed, he placed his pointing stick right over my little corner of the map.
So I did what any other desperate Homegrown Countrygirl would do.
I hauled every last sheet and all the tape I could find outside and I covered each of those dear sweet trees to protect them from that evil scary frost.
And then, finally done, I headed back to the house. But when I glanced back at the trees I was startled to see something almost as spooky as the frost warning.
Have a ghostly Halloween.