Met the lady across the street today.

I was out weeding the front sidewalk (yes, you read that correctly) and heard someone yelling. Her screen door, shaded by a deep porch and fig tree, was open about an inch and she hollered again, “Do you want to dig up some flowers?”

I walked across the street and up the wooden ramp that led to her front door. “Do you know what a Naked Lady looks like?” she asked and waved me inside. Don’t ask me why, but I opened the door further with my gardening gloves and followed her through the small house to the back kitchen window.

She pointed through the window to a row of green pointy leaves, “When those die back, you prune ‘em and they’ll bloom again in August. There are two out front you can dig up if you want.”

I realized she meant the Naked Ladies in her front garden and was happy she hadn’t yelled earlier, “Do you want some naked ladies?”

I graciously thanked her and said I would.

We spent the next 10 minutes touring her house, reading the magnets on her fridge, inspecting the window air conditioning unit in her bedroom, looking at photos of her 63-year-old-and-currently-very-unwell son on the wall and mantle, and talking about dogs while her chubby Daschund barked from the backyard.

Her name is Marge and she seems to have pretty serious neuropathy. She doesn’t go outside at all anymore because she is afraid to fall down. She claims she cared for her yard by herself for 20 years, but now has to have someone come by to mow and pick figs, apricots and pears off the trees. She used to be a cardiology nurse at the very hospital I work at. Brandon and I have never actually seen her and figured she was pretty much a shut-in and must get her food delivered. Last weekend a crew of men replaced all of her old windows with newer, more efficient versions.

Apparently they also brought her a new fridge.

“It doesn’t work nearly as good as the old one, but it’s more energy efficient, so I guess that’s supposed to be good.”

She seems a little crazy, very friendly and extremely lonely.

I think she described herself best when she said, “Nothing works in me anymore except my mouth.”

I escaped to finish my weeding, but promised her I’d be back for the Naked Ladies. And for tea or coffee to listen to her hospital stories.

“Oh, and when you come get the flowers, don’t say Thank You. If you say that, they won’t bloom.”

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photo: Tulip bulbs I planted in the fall and peeling window frames.

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