SOWING MY WILD OATS

I am definitely a country girl. I love the smell of straw, barns and fresh manure. It's not likely that Rick will build me a barn anytime in the near future or haul in a horse so I can have that horsy smell I love but Ariana's wedding was the perfect excuse to ask Rick to bring home four bales of hay.

“Jane, I may not be a wedding planner but I do know I have never been to a wedding where straw played predominantly in the decorations.” Rick said.

Maybe not yet, I thought. This could be the beginning of a whole new trend. “Fresh straw is the perfect addition to my raised gardens, Hon. It will hold in the moisture, and keep down the weeds—give the place ambiance. Besides it’s not like I’m hauling in manure like Sypher’s did the day before their garage sale.”

Rick hauled in four large bales. I grabbed my pitchfork and danced the happy farmer dance. You know the one—invented by a farmer who lived in the dell.

Rick was probably right. It’s not exactly what most people would go if for they were hosting a wedding reception at their house. I have never seen the look in Better Homes and Gardens or Brides magazine but the fresh clean smell and the feeling that a horse lingered just below the hill was too irresistible.

Four days after I laid it down, when I went out for my daily breath of country air, I was horrified to see little green grass like shoots poking out of golden straw. It was growing in every garden box and on the ground between. What had happened?

A few days later I discovered that my straw had oat seeds! I was sowing wild oats, and just in time for a wedding. Clean, golden straw was one thing, but decorating with wild oats was a catastrophe.
Of course Rick thought it was great—a bumper crop! “Not everyone has oats growing in their back yard.” He proclaimed. “We can invite them all back in at harvest time. They can help us beat out the grain.”

Yeah. There’s a party I can’t wait to host. He only thought it was great because he didn’t want to weed it. Well, there was only one thing to do. I added it to my list of things to groom. It went on the top of my list, right above plucking my eyebrows. I wonder if anyone has ever waxed oats before—apparently not.

Well a farmer-wannabe’s gotta do what a farmer-wannabe’s gotta do. And that is just what I did. I got down on my hands and knees and plucked out every blade. I would just like to say that it was much quicker to have my eyebrows waxed.

The wedding reception went off without a hitch and no one noticed the few errant stalks of oats popping through straw waiting for the final plucking. In fact someone said it was the most elegant reception they had ever been to. I think it was the straw. Rick thinks it was the string ensemble.