The Splendor of Ordinary Days by Jeff High

Author:Jeff High
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2015-09-01T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 25

Levi Beiler

The hot days of July came and went.

Daily life returned to its routine if mildly mundane tempo. The shared misery of the sweltering heat made for a ready topic of conversation, and most chose not to suffer in silence. Once or twice a week it would rain, providing a brief relief, but it was often followed by humidity tantamount to a steam room.

Gardens exploded, including mine. If it was left untended for more than two days, I had zucchini the size of a Wiffle ball bat. The surplus was so absurd that neighbors began to lock their doors and hide when they saw me coming with a loaded paper bag. I would walk out my front door in the morning, only to find a large sack of cucumbers, bell peppers, and tomatoes left by the vegetable fairy, some poor soul whose ingrained ­mind-­set of ­waste-­not-­want-­not had reduced him to such covert acts.

Beatrice McClanahan no longer trolled the streets on her lawn mower, having been given a kind but firm ultimatum by Warren Thurman. I decided to visit her one afternoon. It was a convenient excuse to find a new victim in my ­ever-­widening search for recipients of the garden overflow. She seemed delighted to see me and grateful for the bag of veggies, but I couldn’t help notice that some of the light had gone out of her eyes. She was lonely, and the heat kept her confined, unable to walk any great distance. I made a mental note to check in on her more often.

After a brief exam, Karen Davidson determined that Rhett did, in fact, have a small tumor behind his left eye. Her advice was to watch it for a while but that it might require surgery. She also confirmed that Maggie was expecting. Perhaps it was my imagination, but Rhett seemed to have a little more strut in his step after hearing the news. Louise Fox had graciously invited Rhett to spend his days in the fenced backyard so that the newlyweds could discuss favorite names and what color to paint the nursery. The two would frolic with each other for the first ten minutes and then settle down to a morning of lounging under the shade of the tall trees. The lucky dogs.

Meanwhile, Karen’s practice limped along poorly. She had grown a modest cat and dog business, and a few of the horse owners in the valley who had engaged her services had been amazed by her talent and skill. But word of mouth was slow to take hold, and the large beef and dairy operations were not calling. It was tough going, and there seemed little I could do to help her.

The community charity yard sale had netted more than eight thousand dollars, which was being donated to the statue fund. So despite all the unrest and frustration that day had held for me, it had also produced a sizable donation to a worthy cause.

A company in Nashville that specialized in bronze work was awarded the contract for the memorial statue.

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