Did The Mulch Come Yet?

Lizzie is a plant and flower wizard. She knows 'em all. When were were in Ireland a few years ago our traveling female companions kept asking her, "what flower is this and what plant is that"? I was amazed for two reasons: (1) I didn't she knew that much and (2) why would anyone want to. Regardless, we had a landscaper come in two weeks ago and do the yard with every species of plant from all the continents that grow. It looks like a conservatory. The bad news is that Lizzie took off for the lake two days ago and will return in three weeks. Think you can guess my one and only job to save this marriage? It's my duty to water those things on a daily basis if we don't get rain. I checked out the ten day forecast: sunny with hellishly high temps in the upper 90s. You've heard people say, "pray for rain". I say, pray for a monsoon. There is nothing so boring as standing in a garden for an entire hour water what I fondly call 'weeds'. I've got a friend, Gaylord, who came up with a profound statement applicable to men only. His wife asked him, and this was in 1978, to mow the yard. Do you know the reason why he didn't want to? Because it wasn't fun! I like that philosophy. If it isn't fun then find something that is, I say. If you can't then take a nap.
When I moved to Ohio in 1989 I'd never heard of mulch. Everyone puts mulch on anything that grows out here. There's red mulch, black mulch, blond colored mulch. And the reason they use so much of it is because they've never heard of black loam, more commonly referred to as dirt. Iowa has dirt. These people have something kind of like it but it's called clay. In the spring the ladies in the neighborhood get into serious mulch conversations: "Are you getting California mulch or Adirondack mulch"? "When is the mulch coming"? "Have you seen the dump truck with mulch"? "Did you know the Girl Scouts don't sell cookies, anymore? They sell mulch".
Dublin, Ohio has weird weather patterns. Sixty miles west of us is a town called Bellfontaine except the entire state pronounces it, Bell-fountain. Silly, huh.
Regardless, there's something called the "Bellfontaine Front". That town is the highest point in the state. Actually, it's a hill but who's to argue. When weather hits Dublin, more often than not, the rain, snow, whatever splits and shoots 15 miles north to Delaware and 15 miles south to Circleville. So, here I am, at 6:30 this morning, watering those precious, if you don't water them you're dead, flowers and shrubs. I see lightening, hear thunder and suddenly feel three raindrops. That's enough for me. I called that a gully washer because I know about The Front. It's reminiscent of when I was an acting principal of a high school in Storm Lake, Iowa in 1971. It was December and five flakes fell to the ground. I figured that was an appropriate time to cancel classes for the day. And I did! Then I realized I'd be under the guiolltine so I went back out and finished the tedious, boring, isn't there anything better to do in life, Lord help me, water the jungle.
So, I have to be very careful with these plants. Lizzie has a nose like a bloodhound. I can light a cigar at the golf course five miles from our condo and she'll call me on my cell and ask why I'm smoking. She also has eyes like Superman. If she comes home and one single flower is dead she'll know that too. Everything, and I mean every last plant has been catalogued. She should go to work for Burpee Seed.
She might be a lot smaller than I but it's not worth it to have my name changed to "Dead Meat". Enough of this. I'm going to the golf course and have some real fun.