Strange fruit

Spring traditionally yields those tender beginnings of garden life. This week is no exception: leafy tubes of hosta, serrated foliage of the daisy, spiky leaves of lily. My old friends have returned and I sit on the deck smiling at them all like an adoring fan with a front row seat at the Peristyle.

This morning revealed an unexpected guest had joined my backyard reunion. Behind the latticework surrounding the bottom of the deck, my husband spied two large black tote bags filled with notebooks and insurance contracts, a spectacle case with a pair of women's designer eyeglasses, ballpoint pens, a small case of business cards, and a calculator. Since the paper looked white and unspoiled, we figured these supplies had not spent the winter there--and had in fact spent less than twenty-four hours in their hiding place.

Who put them there? Why didn't our two dogs bark their heads off at what must have been a fair amount of noise in the back of the house whilst the lattice was being pulled away?

The business cards revealed the name of this woman who was apparently an insurance agent with several contracts signed and ready to be processed. My husband thought we should call her, but I thought she might feel threatened, so I insisted he take them to the police station and let them deal with it.

Did she walk the neighborhood and glance over the fence at our backyard where, overcome with the joy of spring, she decided in a pollen-laden cloud of fecundity to quit her job and dispose of her worldly burden? Was her car vandalized and the contents hurriedly stowed under our deck?

I was going to end this by writing that we shall never know--but hubby just this moment informed me that she came to see him minutes ago and explained that her car had indeed been vandalized! A laptop had been stolen, but she was grateful to have recovered the rest.

She added that the backyard looked very nice. The vandals had no comment, as they are still at large. I guess spring inspires people in very different ways.