Married to Mary Poppins

Twenty years ago, I was sitting in my work truck with the future Mrs C. I was in the middle of my landscape route. We were having a snack and discussing the weather and the future of life. To her right, on the sill of the open passenger’s window, another party joined the conversation. A wild bird came out of nowhere, landing inches from my companion’s face. The little bugger begin to chatter at her incessantly as if the barn were on fire.

They sat there and had a conversation for a good ten minutes while I watched.

It was the first time I could remember thinking that I was dating Mary Poppins.

As the years went by this would happen again. Other window sills, other birds. Children would rush down aisles at grocery stores to give her big hugs. Children we did not know. Dogs would break from their leashes to come see her; insects would battle pane glass to get her attention. Innocent things loved her.

Especially bees. Bees will shake heaven and earth to find her location, beyond all others. I feel sorry for bees. She hates bees.

About a year ago I was opening the back door to my old house and was surprised by a presence. The largest, fiercest-looking black dog was standing in the middle of my backyard staring at me and my two golden retrievers. I couldn’t tell you this dog’s breed, but it looked as if someone had crossed a bear with a brontosaurus. I quickly shooed my boys back into the house, scared for their safety, and went to wake Mary Poppins, scared for mine. Mary Poppins helped me lure this colossal fiend through the gate (which I had opened for this endeavor) and into the freedom of the front yard.

We called animal control to help corral this gargantuan creature but it was too late. It had already seen her.

Moments later, “Dugle” was at our front door. He was whining to come in. The spell was cast. We went out front, risking life and limb we assumed, to befriend this precious beast and we found a way to return it to its owner. Just another day in a Disney movie for me.

So I don’t know why I was so surprised by the 9” tortoise I found in my backyard yesterday. Or why I was so surprised when I informed Mary Poppins of it and she told me (by phone) to fetch a container. Or why it was so alarming that it vanished by the time I returned, as quickly as it had so suddenly appeared.

“Dear,” Mrs C said, when she arrived home later, “It’s not like we live in the middle of a block where large dogs can leap down from the neighbor’s driveway into our backyard. Nature has to seek another way to find me.”

The turtle, we’ll call her Olivia for now, shimmied under the fence from the pond to find her, but found me instead. Disappointed, it shimmied quickly home and told the others about the time it almost met the queen of them all.

Have a good day, my friends. Find magic in everything you see. 🙂


Author: Tom Being Tom

Tom writes a blog. When he’s not doing that he’s usually hanging out with Mrs C, his wife of 20 years. Together, they have two beautiful, golden boys. Literally. The retriever kind. Tom recently started a novel and is a member of one of the largest social groups known to man.

His worldview was formed by the strange intermingling of comic book superheroes, socioeconomic politics, the Air Coryell offense, and an atheistic spiritual awakening.

He intends to save the world next Thursday.

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