- The Bag Men
There is a wedding in the Oysterville Church this afternoon, unusual because it’s a Sunday and doubly unusual because the bride sent us an invitation, though we know her only slightly. She is a local girl, has worked in nearby café, and has more than once participated as a vocalist at Vespers. We were touched that she invited us to her special day and we intend to go.
Like many of the brides who rent the church, she has called several times with last minute questions. A few days ago, she wanted to know if I would turn on the heat (“Yes”) and if we would do something about the horse manure around the rose bushes (“No”). She was quick to point out that it was her mother who was concerned about the horse manure.
“Sorry,” said I. “Our landscaper felt that the roses needed fertilizing and horse manure is the best. It has been a few weeks so there is no longer any odor.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” said the bride.
But apparently it was not okay, because yesterday when I went over to turn on the heat for the evening rehearsal, a crew of workers was busily shoveling up the manure and placing it in big plastic bags.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“We’re going to put it back right after the wedding tomorrow,” I was told. “The bride talked to the person in charge and she said it was all right.”
“That’s not true,” I said and I knew I sounded like the school teacher talking to a naughty second grader. “The bride talked to me and the possibility of removing the manure was never suggested by either or us. I only told her that it no longer has any odor.”
“Oh, we know that,” said one of the men. “It’s just that it’s unsightly.” And they went right on shoveling and bagging.
Later on my neighbor, who had been standing nearby and listening to this exchange, called to tell me “the rest of the story.” It seems that after I left, a woman approached (from where?) and told the shovelers that ‘that woman’ (me) had nothing to do with the church (so misinformed!) and that the bride had talked to the ‘woman in charge’ (me again) who had given complete permission (even more misinformed).
I was still stuck on “unsightly.” I’ve just never thought of horse manure – or “road apples” as we often called them when I was a child – as anything other than a natural phenomenon. And useful, at that.
Country living isn’t for everyone…
Oh dear….
You gonna post pictures when they put it back? LOL Got a good chuckle and a head shake out of this entry. Thanks for starting my day with gratitude for the peninsula way of life, for horse manure, and for YOU. Not necessarily in that order. 😉
I always love the interaction during the wedding planning…
Most frequently it is the “Smother-of-the-Bride’s” wedding thinly disguised as whatever her daughter wants. The last act before the theoretical releasing of the apron strings.
It’s that fortuitous time, when the bride’s parents pay for the wedding and the Ogre under the bridge, springs fully formed from the head of Zeus. They somehow have the idea that since they have elected themselves as wedding planner, and are spending the money they have have been granted complete control over their universe. It is a really good time to see the actual character and moral fibre of the parents (or lack there-of).
It would have been far to simple for the Smother to call you directly and ask if she could toss a little “beauty bark ” on top if the compost.
Smother of the bride…I love it!
Ahhhhhh! Life’s rich pageant!
Soooooo, are you going to attend the nuptials?
Wouldn’t miss it for the world! You never can tell when more blog fodder (so to speak) will surface…
This brings to mind that pathetic old joke asking why horse manure was placed on the altar. Answer: To keep the flies off the bride! Really bad!! I can’t think of a more lovely setting for a wedding than the Oysterville Church, manure and all!
I can guess who wears the pants in that family! Did you get to meet Mama?