So I’m standing gazing out the back window, reflecting drearily, as is my wont, on the many hellish qualities of our back “garden.” Suddenly I see something that is strange even by the standards of the spot in question. You all remember the giant, unwieldy, rust-colored aloe plant that is running amuck out there — the one I call “the insurgent?” Well, smack in the middle of one of its, um, heads (no, that’s not the technical term, but whatever) is an avocado. Worm-eaten, scarred, but fresh, large, and undoubtedly the genuine article.
“Huh.” I say. “That IS strange.”
My husband, who is standing nearby, is used to hearing me mutter under my breath. At first he doesn’t even respond.
“Honey, come see this. Seriously.”
He comes, with the air of one who does not expect to be surprised.
He looks. There is a long, considered silence.
“Did you put that there?”
I shoot him a “seriously?” look.
The thing is, there is no way this avocado can be there. There is no avacado tree in our yard. In fact, there is no tree of any kind anywhere near the Insurgent — just an innocent looking green bush with hidden thorns which produces no fruit — only lacerations. Other than that, just concrete, concrete, and the smell of concrete. The closest tall tree that MIGHT be an avocado tree is 20 feet away, behind the fence, on someone else’s property. Unless it flings its offspring instead of dropping it, and that with the arm of a top-shelf outfielder, it cannot possibly have put that avocado there.
Mike and I go outside and stare dumbly, first at the avocado, then the sky. For what do we look? An avocado-dusting plane? A mocking, avocado-dropping deity? A produce truck on a cloud? It is unclear.
In the end, we both come up with theories, equally inane: mine, that an owl dropped it, after picking it from a local tree and finding it to heavy to keep carrying. The fact that owls are carnivores does not trouble me. Who doesn’t like guacomole?
Mike’s theory is that a gardener in some nearby yard got frustrated, perhaps at his co-worker, and attempted to bean the offender with said fruit. The throw went wild, and, well, you know the rest.
Either way, it’s pretty strange and fabulous. Now if only it had the face of Jesus on it…hold on…maybe it does…!
I’m off to call the press. Excuse me.
Pingback: A Boulder Approach « thumbstumbler