Melodic Insomniac

I left my apartment for about two hours this morning to have brunch with a friend.  When I returned, I found a tray of bright yellow marigolds on my doorstep.  Attached was a note written in hastily scribbled cursive that read, “Do me a favor.  PLEASE plant these.  I’m getting tired of looking at these two empty boxes!”  There was no signature.

This is not a marigold. It is a buttercup.

The two empty boxes to which this anonymous notester referred are the two flower boxes that sit on the side of the steps leading to my apartment door.  Under normal circumstances, they are filled with a colorful array of flora, usually impatiens. However, this spring they have remained empty and barren, devoid of anything except the leftover dirt from last season and an array of sprouting weeds.

Why haven’t I planted yet, you ask?  The answer is simple: Mother Nature has been a bit manic depressive this season.

My neck of the woods has been plagued with the most erratic weather I have seen in years.  One day it will be sunny and warm, the next it will be cold and dreary, and it will rain with abandon without warning.  I still haven’t packed away my winter clothes because I find myself still needing a sweater every other day.

I don’t know about you, gentle readers, but I don’t particularly enjoy playing in the dirt after a long rain.  At that point it isn’t playing in the dirt so much as it is playing in the mud.  Being the girly girl I am, I try to avoid covering myself in muck and mud.  So, I have been waiting for a rare nice day to fill those flower boxes with something a little more refined and sophisticated than weeds.  The problem is that the only nice days I have seen this spring are those days when I have had day-long commitments that have not allowed me the hour or so I need to plant.

I can only assume that this desperate gesture to brighten up my doorstep was made by one of my neighbors.  I have a pretty good idea who it is, but as there was no name affixed to the note, I can’t be certain.  To be fair, I can understand the frustration of having to look at a neighbor’s unsightly yard.  Believe me, there are a couple rather tackily decorated doorsteps and yards in my complex. But never once have I approached those neighbors, even anonymously, to tell them that their decorations border on white trash.

My flower boxes, while barren, are not so much of an eyesore as they could be.  It’s not as if the weeds are crawling over the side and invading my neighbor’s yard; they are quite well contained, and actually look a bit like grass.  In any case, surely the nameless neighbor must be aware of the schizophrenic weather patterns as of late and the rarity with which I occupy this apartment during the day, and therefore my subsequent inability to follow through with my desired planting. Nonetheless, I probably should have done something about the state of the flower boxes before now. For that I do take responsibility.

Of course, I plan to plant the yellow darlings that sit beside the forlorn looking containers, but not until Sunday, assuming that the weather holds.  You see, today and tomorrow present the same problems I have faced all season: the air is moist with a constant drizzle and looming thunderstorms in the distance.  Not idea planting weather.  Tomorrow, while nicer weather-wise, I must spend all day at recitals and rehearsals, meaning I must be dressed up and away from home until the late hours of the night.  So, if this neighbor wants these flowers planted so badly, he’ll just have to hold his horses until I get an unhurried, rain-free minute.

Amidst all this, I can’t help but feel ever so slightly insulted.  I am grateful for the gesture of free flowers, but slightly embarrassed that someone thinks I have let my doorstep’s appearance deteriorate to such a deplorable state, and even more so I am offended at the notion that I should plant them solely to appease anyone except myself.  Maybe I’m being a bit too sensitive about it all, but I feel that a note that read something like, “I thought these would look beautiful in your flower boxes” might have been more appropriate, and less aggressive than the note that was actually left. It would still get the message across, but in such a manner so as to not offend the intended recipient. These neighbors obviously have never before had to manipulate someone with the utmost subtlety. Of course, fearing confrontation as I do, I would never approach the suspected neighbor to tell him this.

Am I right in thinking this was slightly rude?  How would you react if this happened to you?  Would you submit to your neighbor’s will and plant the flowers, or would you chuck them into the trash? Would you try to find out who left them?  Even more importantly, would you ever do this to one of your own neighbors?